The Right Choice
by IWantYouInMyLife
Summary: The apocalypse took everything from Beth — her life, her house, her family and, worst of all, her former self. In order to survive in the new world, Beth must walk the road to hell. However, if she plays her cards just right, she won't have to walk it alone. Daryl/Beth/Merle
1. Not Flying

**Author's Note: New story!**

 **About the story: Yes, is Beth, Daryl, and Merle together. Together, together. It may seem odd, but I just think it fits.**

 **I do not have a Beta, so any mistakes you see are entirely my own ignorance, my only excuse is that English isn't my first language.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything from TWD. Sorry for the bad news.**

 **[** **This story is currently being rewritten, so I have deleted the previous chapters and will, instead, upload the new, edited versions.]**

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Beth looked at her wrist and sighed; she would have that scar forever. That wasn't how she envisioned her life would be a year ago; everything had happened so fast. Nobody told her how hard this was going to be — nobody gave her a head's up.

She looked at the ceiling of her bedroom and felt like crying. There were stars painted all over her ceiling, which she painted herself, trying to bring the wonders of the outside to her little refuge... It all seemed like such a long time ago, though.

Beth had appreciated freedom more than most, or so she thought. All of her life she'd searched for anything that gave her peace — the wonderful feeling of flying. Beth always felt like she was incomplete. She felt trapped in a life where all the decisions were already settled way before she even realized there was something to decide over. Living at the farm, being a good student, getting married to Jimmy, having two children. It was all suffocating. So Beth began doing all things that made her feel free, like riding horses incredible fast, runin', singing, gazing at the stars...

As she thought about what she had done, she couldn't help but feel guilty. Death wasn't freedom; it was oblivion, nothing. But she had been so sure of everything. So sure that there was nothing left to live for; that she was going to die anyway in a very near future. So it hadn't mattered; being alive hadn't mattered. But the moment the glass cut through her skin she knew she had made a mistake. She wanted to live, so damn much. The blood that seeped from her wrist was warm and bright red. Her own blood was alive — all that time she had been alive on the inside and hadn't noticed. So she screamed for Maggie. She cried, hoping that it wasn't too late, that she would live now that she found out she wanted to.

She sighed again. At the clock by her bed read 4 am; she should be sleeping. But in the end, it didn't matter; she could sleep during the day, her sister wasn't going to let her get out of bed to do anything anyway. Might as well enjoy the time she had.

She got up and made her way to the porch. It was a beautiful night, the stars shining brightly in the sky. It almost seemed as though the universe was trying to show her what she would have missed had she died.

Beth was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't hear the steps until they were close. She jumped as she turned around, her hand going to her heart as she looked Daryl right in the eyes.

"You scared me." The words slipped out of her mouth, uncontrolled.

He didn't answer, although it wasn't really a question. He just looked at her like she was stupid for getting scared in the first place. Beth felt herself blushing from embarrassment. That appeared to be the only thing she could do in his presence, she thought, remembering the first time she saw Daryl.

 _Beth was getting water for Carl, as he couldn't quite get up yet. As she was passing the living room, she saw Rick talking to two other men. The man on the right looked like someone she would run away from if she ever saw on the street at night. He was tall, clearly strong, and had scars on his arms and face that were visible even from where she was standing. But the thing that made him scary was the fact that he was all dirty, covered in blood, and scowling terribly. She certainly wouldn't want to be on his bad side, ever. Then on the left was Daryl, although she didn't know who he was at the time. With his crossbow hanging on his back, his hair falling in front of his eyes, and a tense posture that made it look like he was ready to run or fight at any minute._

 _Suddenly he stopped talking and looked right at her. She froze, ashamed at being caught staring. As much as she tried to move, she couldn't feel her legs. She felt herself blushing and quickly looked down. When she looked up again, he was already talking to Rick again, ignoring her completely._

The whole thing had lasted seconds, but she remembered clearly. His gaze wasn't something one could forget. Daryl looked at you like he saw you, really saw you. And that was not something Beth was used to.

She continued to look at him as he sat on the chair and lit a cigarette. She suddenly had the urge to say something, anything to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Couldn't sleep, too?" She asked, cringing to herself as soon as the stupid question slipped out of her mouth.

He didn't even glance her way, and that made her a little angry. Sure, she had noticed that he didn't speak much to anybody that wasn't his brother. But he always answered when someone asked him a direct question, even if it was to say a simple 'yes' or 'no.' She couldn't believe he was going to ignore her.

"You know, you could answer," She pressed.

"Ain't got nothin' to answer to you, little girl," He spoke with the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Little girl? He didn't call Carl little, and he was several years younger than her.

"Little girl? Do you even know how old I am?"

"Don't care, it's not like it makes a difference," He finished his smoke and got up to leave, but Beth wasn't ready to let him go.

"What does that even mean?" Beth knew that wasn't a polite question, but she couldn't seem to care.

"Whatever," He turned his back, still calm as ever.

It only served to annoy Beth further. There he was, all composed and confident, in the middle of the apocalypse, like nothing happening around him was worthy of notice. Like she wasn't worthy of notice.

She grabbed his arm, riding high on her misplaced anger, and said: "Answer me!"

He turned around, grabbing the hand on his arm and slapping it away. He looked at her, and she could tell that she made him angry. It was a reaction, though, which made her feel some weird sense of satisfaction running through her body.

"Don't touch me," He said, walking 'till he was inches from her face.

The look in his eyes scared her, but the anger made her brave.

"Then answer me! Tell me why you look at me like I'm annoying you just for breathing."

"You wanna know why, little girl?" He spat the words out. "Well, it's because you don't deserve more time out of any of our lives."

"What the hell does that even mean?" That was the first time in her life that Beth cursed out loud. And, had the situation been any less consuming, she would've been shocked with herself.

"It means that your pathetic attempt at killin' yourself has already made us waste too much time as it is." The words were coming out of his grind teeth.

And they were like a slap in her face. She took one step back, her anger giving space to shame.

"What?" She whispered. Her blood began to rush faster through her body as her heart accelerated, louder than before and almost blocking the other sounds coming from outside her body.

"That's right," He took one step forward, bending his head to look her right in the eyes. How come she never noticed that his bright blue eyes were the exact same shade as hers? "Your ridiculous cry for attention has only made us waste time we don't have takin' care of an ungrateful kid like you."

"You know nothing about me." Her eyes began to water as she spoke. She wasn't ungrateful; she just hadn't been able to understand why everybody seemed so eager to live in a dying world.

"I know enough," He said, suddenly backing away to spit on the ground between them. "You're a little princess who had it easy all your life, with people to protect and cater to your every need, and as soon as things get a little harsh, you can't handle it. You try to kill yourself like a coward, not caring for anyone who might get hurt by your actions."

She felt sick - like she was going to throw up and cry at the same time. She just shook her head in denial, that wasn't true, that wasn't her.

He looked at her with a disgusted expression "If your intention was to make everyone look at you like you're not cut for this word, congratulations. It's clear that you'll just be a dead weight until you finally get yourself killed anyway."

He said the words and left. No parting glances, nothing to soften the blow.

Beth just slid to the floor, struggling to breathe. She hugged her knees and cried like she never cried before, wondering if that's what everyone else was thinking, and that made her even sicker. In all her life she never heard anything so hurtful.

That was the first time she cried because of a Dixon.

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 **AN2: Tell me what you guys thought. I hope you liked it.**


	2. Another Dead Girl

**Author's note: It's me again! New chapter for you guys. I'm really excited about this one.**

 **Thank you again for all of those who have written comments, followed, etc.**

 **Disclaimer: I've said it once, I've said it a million times, I do not own anything from The Walking Dead. Sadly.**

* * *

She stared at the ceiling, unmoving. She had been doing this for the last three hours or so, laid down on her bed. As she stared, the words crossed her mind incredibly fast, one after the other. Words spoken by no one other than Daryl. Daryl. _Daryl._ His face appeared in her mind, a face contorted with anger and disgust. Beth would remember his face for the rest of her life, no matter how short it was.

The thing was, he had been somewhat right. Not that she'd done it for attention, but that she had been weak. Beth gave up on everything; she'd given up on her sister, her father, Jimmy... But, worst of all, she had given up on herself. She had been weak. Daryl was right, and that hurt. She didn't want any of those horrible things spoken to be true, but they were.

She raised her wrist and looked at the scar there. The scar, the first and only in Beth's body. It was somewhat ironic that she had self-inflicted the only blemish on her. As she touched it, Beth could almost feel the blood that had rushed through the cut, and that made her sick. What if she'd died? What was going to be the memory people had of her? She knew what they would think, Daryl's words were like a knife through her brain. _"A little princess who had it easy all your life... as soon as things get a little harsh, you can't handle it..."_

She moved her eyes around her bedroom, passing' through the pink walls, the pink wardrobe and finally setting on the mirror — her favorite thing in all the room. It was a huge mirror that had belonged to her great-grandmother and was given to her after Maggie moved away to college. She had always wanted it — spending hours looking at herself in the mirror singing to it. After it had been moved to her bedroom, Beth put her prom tiara on top of it. She could see why Daryl had said she was a little princess; it was a princess' bedroom. A princess' life. God, she had been spoiled all her life. She saw it now, and the whole thing disgusted her. She didn't want this room anymore, this life anymore.

She got up and made her way to the window. Outside she could see Daryl talking to his brother, Merle. Merle Dixon didn't appear to be someone who needed to be protected, sheltered. On the contrary, he was the one who protected himself and anyone else he wanted. He was made for this life; one only needed to see him to realize his life before the whole 'walkers' thing hadn't been any better. He was strong, reliable, secure. He was everything she was not.

He was what everyone wanted to be, what she wanted to be. At that moment Beth decided that Merle was the answer to her problems, he was going to teach her, even if she had to beg.

XxXxXXxxxXxXxXxX

Ok, so maybe she hadn't really thought it through. As she walked to where Merle was sitting and smoking, she began to regret her decision. He wasn't going to do anything except saying no. She was about to turn around when he noticed her presence and looked right at her. She froze mid step.

"Shouldn't you be cooking, washin' or doin' whatever shit you women do these days?" He almost looked vaguely amused.

God, what was with those Dixons? Did they have to be so insufferable?

"That's really sexist," She stated the obvious.

"Sexist? Is that a new word you learned in school, kiddo?" He gave a short mocking laugh.

Was she actually putting herself through that? Even if he, by some miracle, decided to accept her offer, she wasn't going to stand him. Two seconds and she was already thinking about kicking his nuts.

But, before she could decide to leave, she remembered why she was there in the first place. Daryl's words still fresh in her mind. She needed his help.

"Yes, just yesterday. It was such a nice normal day; the lunch was pizza," She replied sarcastically.

He almost looked surprised, she thought smugly. Apparently, he didn't think she had in her to talk back.

He recovered fast, though, and said: "Whatever."

He went back to smoke as if she wasn't even there.

"I... I actually wanted to talk to you." She wasn't going to give up so easily.

He turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Dammit. She hadn't thought what exactly she was going to say. He didn't appear to be a guy that would put up with a long story, so she kept it short and to the point.

"I want you to teach me how to fight," She looked right into his eyes.

Honestly, she had imagined a lot of possibilities for his answer, but what he did next was just as surprising as it was insulting. He burst into laughter. Loudly.

"Oh, kiddo, I've got to admit, you're a funny one." He let out one more laugh. "Teach you... Good one!"

"It isn't a joke!" She almost screamed. "I want you to teach me."

"Please, girl; you couldn't hold a knife to save your life. Ask someone else to play with you. I ain't got the time to teach you how to slap a bitch." He went from amused to condescending in a minute.

Merle got up and started to walk to the trees, while Beth stood there, fuming. How dare he just brush her off like this? She wanted to learn; she needed it. She didn't have a purpose left in her life that wasn't surviving, and nothing was going to get in the way of that, not even Merle Dixon.

So she ran after him, but he wasn't anywhere.

She started whispering: "Merle, Merle, where are you?"

There wasn't an answer, so she continued to walk towards where he seemed to have headed.

"Merle?" She asked at the empty space a little more loudly.

She was suddenly slapped in the back of the head. "Quit with the screamin' girl, you crazy?"

She jumped back, her hand going to her heart when she saw him. "For the love of God, you scared me!"

"Well, you deserved that and more," He said, already smoking another cigarette.

"Ouch," She rubbed her head. "Didn't have to hit me, too."

"That little slap?" He asked, incredulous. "Don't be such a baby."

She tried to glare at him as angrily as she could. He didn't appear to be impressed, though.

"Go back to the house, kiddo; your old man is probably thinkin' you died by now." He smiled while saying that as if the thought amused him.

"No! I won't, not until you listen to me."

"Not this shit again. This is ridiculous, go back." He started walking away again.

Beth wasn't letting it go, however, so she hurried to keep up with him.

"It's not ridiculous. I really want to learn; I want to protect myself and my family. I know I can do it." She was pure determination.

"Kiddo, there are people takin' care of your ass already. Stop buggin' me, go bother someone else." He said as he pulled the last draw at the cigarette, threw it on the ground and stomp on it.

"No! I don't want to be protected. And stop calling me kiddo, you know my name, use it." She was getting angry at him. Couldn't he understand the importance of that?

But Beth had pushed too hard. Merle Dixon had a really short patience and, unfortunately for Beth, it was over.

He grabbed her arms firmly and pushed her near. "Look, I don't give a fuck about your name or what you want. I don't have the time for this bullshit, so just fuckin' leave. I don't get why you're so willin' to protect yourself now anyway, weren't you trying to kill yourself the other day, kiddo?" He said, sneering at her. He looked pointedly at her wrist.

She tried to break free of his hold, pushing her arm back, but he was too strong and wouldn't let go. "Let go of me!" She shouted.

"What? You wanted to learn how to fight but can't even take a little grabbin'?" He was all contempt for her.

Beth had reached the end of her emotional control. "You know nothing! You Dixons just think you're so superior, fuck that!" She was spittin' the words out like never before in her life. "I know I've tried to kill myself, believe it or not, I was there. But I decided to live; I want to live. Now that I saw how the world is like I want the chance to survive, is that too much to ask?"

"Girl, you haven't seen nothing of the world, wake up," He screamed right back at her.

She pushed her arm again, and he tightened his hold - her arm would have bruises the next day for sure. "But I want to be ready; I don't want to be a scared little girl anymore, I'm through with it. I know what you see when you look at me - what you all see, just another dead girl! Well, tough luck, I refuse to be that girl."

She was so close she had to tilt her head back a lot to look him in the eyes.

He released her brusquely, and she stumbled back a few steps. "Kiddo, the world doesn't care about what you refuse or not to be." He seemed deflated, almost sad.

The thing was, while they were too distracted screaming at each other they didn't notice the walker that was slowly but surely crawling closer, coming from behind Beth. So before she could say something, anything, the walker grabbed her ankle and pushed her down.

She fell and screamed, kicking the air, trying to free her leg.

"Merle!" She yelled, hoping he would save her in time.

The walker lunged for her ankle, intending to take a chunk out of her, but before he could, Merle had a knife plugged in its head. It was all too fast.

For a second they both stood still, Beth on the ground with her leg still being held by the now dead walker and Merle half on top of her with his hand on the handle of his knife, which was stuck in the head of the dead woman.

Suddenly the reality of almost being bitten seemed to crash into Beth, and she started to cry.

"No, no, no..." She just continued to repeat to herself as she cried in her hand.

The hand holding her leg was abruptly taken off. Merle got up and picked her up, bridal style, and started to go back to the farm. She pushed her head on his shoulder and cried more.

"I'll teach you," He whispered, so low she almost didn't hear him.

Beth was so shocked, she stopped crying and looked at him.

"Why?" She needed to know.

"Just won't let you be another dead girl," He said, very seriously.

She pushed her head on his shoulder again and whispered back "Thank you."

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 **AN2: Beth and Merle give the first step of many.**

 **What did you guys think? Please tell me!**


	3. I Won't Let You Fall

**Author Note: Surprise! New chapter. I hope you guys enjoy this.**

 **As always, I want to thank everyone who left a comment or followed this story. You make me wanna write all day and all night.**

 **Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

 _Merle's Pov!_

The truth was: It had always been Daryl and him. Merle didn't really count the time when his brother hadn't been born — the thirteen years he spent alone in the awful hole they'd called a house were a waste, truly. He got drunk, sold drugs and tried to be out of his father's sight as much as possible. He had been planning on moving away, even if it had pained him to leave his mother there, but it all changed the night his mother told him she was pregnant.

 _He had been away for three months straight, sleepin' in the house of his latest drug buyer. A delusional guy that thought he was goin' to get free drugs by being his friend. As if. Merle didn't have friends._

 _Being away wasn't an uncommon thing for him. In fact, he was away more often than he was at the house_ — _he refused to even think of it as a home. If only his mother agreed to leave Will... He also refused to call Will his father, he was, at most, a crappy sperm donor._

 _When he opened the door, he found his mother crying on the sofa and his father nowhere to be seen. Nothing new. She was curled up and had angry red marks on her arms. Nothing new. She looked up with the noise of the door and Merle could see the black eye she was spottin'. Nothing new._

 _"Oh, Merle! Baby, where have you been?" She asked, wiping the tears as she talked. She had a concerned look on her face, one that never failed to make him uncomfortable._

 _His relationship with his mother had always been a very complicated one. On the one hand, he hated her with all his heart_ — _hated that she had married Will, that she had put him through his fucking horrible childhood and never once interfered when Will was having one of his angry episodes and decided to lash out at him. Every time he looked at her he was reminded of the fact that she had never left; that she should have protected him, but didn't. At the same time, she was the one person in the world that ever looked sincerely concerned for him. She loved him in her own weird way, always buying him a crappy birthday cake for his birthday. A cake he thought tasted awful but ate it regardless, simply 'cause she had gone through the hassle of buying it. She was the person who watched him get hurt without saying anything but was also the one who went to his room and helped him clean his cuts or put his shoulder back in place after it._

 _"Away, although not as far away as one would hope. Cut the bullshit, what happened?" He went straight to the freezer to grab the ice bag that was always there for that exact purpose._

 _The question brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. She lowered her eyes and shrunk herself further into the couch._

 _"I...I...Merle, I..." She was stuttering and gasping for air at the same time._

 _That made him put the ice bag on the table and look at her again. What the fuck? The stuttering was new; she never did that. In fact, she had just broken protocol. They had a dance they always did in this scenario. She would grab a bottle and the ice bag; they would drink and smoke until Will arrived, ignoring the subject as usual._

 _"What?" He grabbed her shoulder and gave it a little shake to see if she snapped out of it. "What did he do?"_

 _"I'm so sorry Merle, I truly am. It was an accident; I never planned for it to happen. Please believe me," She said, not making any sense. At all._

 _"For the love of God, woman! Just say it, you're not making fucking sense." He was starting to become preoccupied._

 _She looked him straight in the eyes "I'm pregnant."_

 _Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. **Pregnant.**_

 _A child. Another child. Another innocent child for Will to destroy._

 ** _No._**

 _"Is this a joke?" He whispered, in the most serious tone he had ever used in his life._

 _She just looked at him sadly "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."_

 _"SORRY? SORRY? ARE YOU FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME?" He was furious, outraged. "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKIN'? HOW COULD YOU? WASN'T RUINING MY LIFE ENOUGH FOR YOU?"_

 _He slammed his hand on the table and started pacing around the room._

 _"You have to leave; we need to leave. Now. If we do it quickly enough, we can be out of the city before Will returns from the bar." Merle's mind was workin' fast, trying to think where they could go._

 _All his plans were interrupted by his mother sentence: "I can't. I can't leave your father. He needs us." In a minute, she stopped being the mother that he loved and went back to being the person he would forever resent._

 _"Needs us? For what? Other than being his punching bag, that's it?" She had to be kidding. "You can't be serious. How can you even think of putting another human being in this God-forsaken hole?"_

 _"Will is this kid's father, Merle. He has a right to be a part of his life, even if his love is somewhat strangely given."_

 _Never in his life had he wanted to punch a woman so much. Never had he been this angry._

 _"I can't believe this shit. You're insane, fucking insane." Strangely given? Fuck this shit._

And so he stayed. Angry as hell, but he had stayed. In his mind there wasn't another choice, he couldn't just leave his unborn brother behind. Couldn't leave his blood in the hands of Will, alone.

Daryl was born prematurely, two whole months earlier. The doctors said it was because his mother hadn't stopped drinking or smoking, but what he'd later discovered was that his brother simply had no patience to speak of. Daryl was horrible at waiting, and Merle was pretty sure he had just gotten tired of not being born.

He wasn't at home when his mother went into labor — no surprise there. So when Merle got to the hospital, his brother was already there, a small — minuscule — bundle of tears. Daryl was also an angry baby — he didn't like anyone, or almost anyone, because the moment Merle took him in his arms, he stopped crying and looked at him directly in the eyes, seeming curious about who he was. He remembers staring at the baby in his arms and feeling the strongest emotion he had ever felt. As he gave his finger for the baby to grab he swore to himself that he would be everything that kid ever needed. He would protect his brother, no matter what.

But he failed. Failed in the one promise he made in his whole life. He left for the army thinking he would make something of himself, that he would be someone and take Daryl out of the hole they lived. He had raised his brother to be tough, taught him how to survive in a world where everything seemed to converge to kill you. But he couldn't have known his mother would die... burn the whole house down in one of her drunken episodes. He couldn't have known his father would take advantage of the fact that Daryl was grievin' to abuse him in almost every way he could. He should have known.

The first time he saw Daryl's back, he cried. He cried while cursin' himself for his huge failure. He had failed his brother. He tried to apologize, he really did, but every time the words got stuck in the back of his throat. What was he goin' to say? _Sorry, I'm such an idiot? Sorry, I didn't protect you? If I could, I would've taken every single one of those beatings for you?_ They were just words; words that couldn't repair the damage that had been done. So he didn't say anything. Just swore to himself to do better.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

He was sitting alone, smoking peacefully, or as peacefully as one could be these days. Merle was thinking about the mess that had been made by Shane, with the barn and everything. It's not like he was attached to the farm, but it was better than being constantly on the road. Shane just had to fuck it up. He would have to be dealt with. He was obviously out of control, and if Officer Friendly wasn't capable of manning up and do something about it, well, Merle would just have to do it himself.

He heard her before he could see the girl — she just wasn't silent enough. When he looked up, he saw her. Beth. Of course he knew who she was — who in that ridiculous farm didn't know about the girl's failed attempt to off herself? He had to admit her presence was a surprise; she was the last person he would have guessed would disturb his minute of peace. Wasn't she constantly watched by her sister?

"Shouldn't you be cooking, washin' or doin' whatever shit you women do these days?" If she was goin' to disturb him anyway, he might as well get some amusement out of it.

She flushed, outraged. It was funny; she looked like a little cat, angry at bein' poked.

"That's really sexist." Sexist? God, what were they teaching kids these days?

"Sexist? Is that a new word you learned in school, kiddo?" A laugh came out of him. Sexist. That was a new one.

He thought she was going leave after that, but she surprised him.

"Yes, just yesterday. It was such a nice normal day; the lunch was pizza." She spoke sarcastically.

The kid had some spunk in her, he had to admit that surprised him. Pleasantly. Merle could respect someone with a backbone. He wasn't goin' to admit that to her, though.

"Whatever."

"I... I actually wanted to talk to you." Of course. They always want something from him. "I want you to teach me how to fight."

What? His day was just getting weirder and weirder. He burst out laughing. Ha! Teach her how to fight! That was great.

"It isn't a joke!" She was screaming. "I want you to teach me."

"Please, girl; you couldn't hold a knife to save your life. Ask someone else to play with you. I ain't got the time to teach you how to slap a bitch." For fuck's sake, she looked like someone a stronger wind could take away. He didn't have time for this bullshit. He just stood up and started walking away. Merle just wanted some fucking peace.

But God just wasn't through fuckin' with him. She started to call him at an increasing volume. Was she trying to get them both killed?

He slapped her on the back of the head. "Quit with the screamin' girl, are you crazy?"

The look of panicked surprise on her face was so funny it almost made him smile. Almost.

"For the love of God, you scared me," She said as if he hadn't noticed.

"Well, you deserved that and more." After all, she was the one who was making him waste his cigarette time.

"Ouch," She rubbed her head. "Didn't have to hit me, too."

What a fuckin' china doll. "That little slap?" He asked, incredulous. "Don't be such a baby." He had barely touched her.

She was trying to be intimidating, he could tell. Well kiddo, tough luck for you, you look like a poked kitten again.

"Go back to the house, kiddo; your old man is probably thinkin' you died by now." All he could think about was the kitten look. It was amusing; it almost made him want to make her mad just to see the 'wanna be angry' look.

"No! I won't, not until you listen to me." That again?

"Not this shit again. This is ridiculous, go back," Maybe if he left she would get the message.

No, not happening. She just ran after him. Again. His patience was running thin.

"It's not ridiculous. I really want to learn; I want to protect myself and my family. I know I can do it." She was so lucky he didn't hit women.

"Kiddo, there are people takin' care of your ass already. Stop buggin' me, go bother someone else." He pulled the last draw at the cigarette, threw it on the ground and stomp on it. There it went, his last cigarette. Wasted.

"No! I don't want to be protected. And stop calling me kiddo, you know my name, use it." Didn't want to be protected? That was all she knew, for the love of God. He was really annoyed now.

He grabbed her arm forcefully and drew her near. "Look, I don't give a fuck about your name or what you want. I don't have time for this bullshit, so just fuckin' leave. I don't get why you're so willin' to protect yourself anyway, weren't you trying to kill yourself the other day, kiddo?" He looked at the scar there.

She tried to break free, but he just wouldn't let her. She wanted his attention, right? Now she got it. Annoying bitch.

"Let go of me!" She shouted.

"What? You wanted to learn how to fight but can't even take a little grabbin'?" Please, she was just pathetic.

"You know nothing! You Dixons just think you're so superior, fuck that!" She was angry now, he could tell. "I know I've tried to kill myself, believe it or not, I was there. But I decided to live; I want to live. Now that I saw how the world is like I want the chance to survive, is that too much to ask?" Saw the world? Was she fuckin' with him?

"Girl, you haven't seen nothing of the world, wake up." He almost wanted to slap some sense into her.

She pushed her arm again and he tightened his hold. "But I want to be ready; I don't want to be a scared little girl anymore, I'm through with it. I know what you see when you look at me, what you all see, just another dead girl! Well, tough luck, I refuse to be that girl." She had tears gathering in her eyes.

Refused to be? That was too bad for her. She didn't know anything about life, anything about wanting to be different, about refusing to be the same. She was just a kid. He suddenly released her arm. "Kiddo, the world doesn't care about what you refuse or not to be."

What was he doing? Screaming at this girl, grabbing her? Since when did he lose his control so easily? Who was this girl to leave him like that?

His musings had him so damn distracted he only saw the walker when she screamed his name. His name. In the second that it took for him to process the situation and kill the walker, all he could see were her eyes. The exact same shade as Daryl's. Eyes screaming for help. It reminded him of the one time his brother had screamed his name in the same panicked tone. And it stirred something inside him that he hadn't felt in a very long time. A protectiveness so strong it shocked him to the core. He wasn't going to let this girl die.

Faster than even he thought he could do it, he killed the walker. Killed it and stood there, still completely shocked by everything. He was pulled out of his own mind by Beth's cries.

"No, no, no..." He had to help her but didn't know how, so he picked her up, bridal style, to take her to someone who could.

She was crying on his shoulder, and his heart clenched. There was something he could do; he could make sure something like that never happened again. He could make her strong. He had to.

"I'll teach you," He couldn't manage anything more than a whisper.

"Why?" She was whispering, too.

"Just won't let you be another dead girl." He wouldn't. He wouldn't be able to stand to fail twice.

She pushed her head on his shoulder again and whispered back, "Thank you."

How many times had someone thanked him?

* * *

 **AN 2: Liked? Please tell me!**


	4. Don't Look Back

**Author's Note: I'm back! Back with a brand new chapter for you all. This is a very decisive point of the story, and I couldn't be more excited. I hope you guys like it.**

 **Special thanks to all of you amazing human beings that left encouraging reviews, saying you like this crazy story. Seriously, you rock!**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own The Walking Dead. If I ever do, I'll be sure to let you guys know first.**

* * *

When she arrived home being carried by none other than Merle Dixon everybody freaked out, thinking she had been hurt or worse, bitten. Her daddy was the first one to see her. He screamed her name, probably alerting the whole state of Georgia that something was wrong with her, and ran to the porch where Merle was carefully putting her down.

"What's wrong?" Her father demanded as soon as he came near them. It was evident that he was speaking to Merle, and not her, as though he expected her not to be able to answer for herself. It was annoying and demeaning.

"Nothing's wrong," She answered anyway. It was about time everybody stopped treating her like an invalid. "I just fell and hurt my ankle, Merle was kind enough to carry me here." Okay, so that wasn't the whole truth, not even close. But if she told them what had really happened it would be impossible to get a minute of peace in that house.

As she spoke she looked straight at Merle, begging with her eyes for him to follow her lead there.

He just stared at her, his face not giving anything away.

After what seemed to be forever, his eyes left hers and he turned to the crowd that had gathered to see what was going on. "Yeah," He said, almost indifferently. "Girl fell right where I was smokin' my cigarette. Just my luck I suppose."

Beth nearly hugged him, right there. She didn't know why he had lied for her, but she was very grateful nevertheless.

"Oh, thank God," Her father whispered, very relieved. "Sit here," He pointed to a chair "Let's have a look at that ankle."

She didn't sit. "I'm fine, dad; it's no big deal."

Her father wasn't going to accept that, she could tell. But before he got the chance to say something Maggie was speaking.

"Why were you outside?" She was demanding an answer but had an expression which made it clear that no matter what she said, Beth would be wrong.

"Why? What do you mean why? Do I have to have a reason to take a walk around my own house?" Beth was playing dumb, maybe to see if her sister realized how absurd her question was.

Not happening, of course.

"Yes, yes you do. You're supposed to be resting Beth, in your bed."

"Resting? Why should I? There's nothing physically wrong with me." She lifted her chin defiantly.

Silence.

"Where's Rick and Carl?" Beth asked looking around, just trying to change the subject to something else.

Her father lowered his eyes "Carl is missing... and so is Shane." He barely whispered the last part.

"Holy fuck!" Merle was looking at his brother in the eyes. "Officer Friendly went after them?"

"Of course he did," Daryl answered, "Wasn't going to let that crazy fucker with his son."

"But why is no one else searching?" Beth asked Daryl with all the courage she had.

He immediately frowned his face in anger, but it didn't appear to be directed at her. He turned his head to Merle while speaking. "Rick ordered everybody to stay put, said he had to deal with Shane on his on. Especially now that his own son is involved." Then Daryl stared at her again. "We should all be searching. Shane has gone completely insane, by the time Rick found them anything could have happened."

"Were you all out here waiting for them?" She asked him. God, it was so painful to look at him in the eyes and pretend like nothing had happened. Any minute she expected Daryl to start cursing at her.

He didn't curse at her, in fact, he didn't get the chance to answer at all.

"No, we were looking for Lori," Andrea responded. "Right after Rick left she disappeared. We were hoping she just wanted some time alone but it's obvious that she went after Carl."

"Bitch just gonna get herself killed." Merle didn't sound exactly displeased with the idea.

And then, like some macabre twist of fate, a gunshot sound echoed all through the farm.

They all turned their heads in the same direction, not daring to breathe, waiting to see if more gunshots would follow. But the sound that followed was neither a gunshot nor was it from the same direction. A scream, a desperate scream was coming from the opposite direction.

"Lori!" Carol sounded horrified. "Oh my God." Her hand came to her mouth for a second and then she started running in the direction of the scream.

"Fuck! Carol, wait!" Andrea went after her.

By then everybody was desperate, screaming things to do but no one was listening, they were all just screaming. Everybody but the Dixon brothers.

Daryl just looked at Merle, as if waiting for him to decide what to do.

"It doesn't matter," He answered a question Daryl hadn't asked. "All this noise is gonna bring all the walkers right to where we are; we need to move right fucking now."

"Wait!" Beth said holding Merle's arm. "What do you mean move? Please, we can't go, this is my house."

"Kiddo, there's no time for this. Trust me, okay? Go to your room and grab whatever is essential. Do it faster than you've ever done something in your life."

"But...but... What about my house? And Dad? And Maggie?" She was stuttering, trying to get the words out.

"We'll talk to everybody else," He said rapidly, mentioning to his brother. "Now go!"

And she ran. Ran like she was being chased. Ran like she was flying. She was good at running. That she could do.

She stormed into her room, gasping for breath.

Beth then gave herself five seconds, five seconds to freak out internally, and then she moved. Grabbing everything she considered essential. Merle had said only essential; she could follow orders.

Beth quickly changed shoes, putting the sturdier pair of boots she owned. She didn't know where they were going, but it seemed likely that a lot of walking would be involved.

By the time she was finished her heart was going a mile a minute. And in that second, God only knows why she felt very hungry. She hadn't eaten breakfast, her conversation with Merle had appeared to be more important — there would be time for food later she remembers thinking. Ironic, no?

But the hunger served to remind her to run into the kitchen and grab whatever she could see in front of her and stuff it inside her already full backpack. There would come a time later where she would ask herself why the hell had she grabbed the honey, but at the moment, there wasn't time for questioning.

Beth felt as though she was running against the clock, and not one minute could be wasted. From the kitchen, she could hear Maggie screaming something to someone. And then she heard something worse.

"WALKERS!" Her fathers scream sounded like the loudest thing she had ever heard.

Her heart was pounding so fast she could hear it in her head. Oh God, what was she going to do? Walkers. In her farm.

She was panicking. She knew rationally that there was no time to panic, but she just couldn't get up from where she was crouched. A pack of Oreos in her hand. Was she going to die now? After finally figuring out she wanted to live? Again?

"Beth!" Her father was shaking her like crazy. "Beth, let's go!"

She looked at him. Really looked at him, his face dirty with blood, whose blood she didn't know, didn't want to know.

 _Breathe,_ she told herself. Just breathe.

Had she known that this would be the last time she would see her father in a very long time, Beth would have said something different, would have said she loved him or something equally as corny. But she didn't, so she said:

"Are you okay?" While wiping some of the blood out of his cheek.

She heard screams outside. A lot of screams.

He didn't have time to answer. Daryl busted through the door looking everywhere until his eyes landed on her.

"Come on; we have to go." And started dragging her away.

"Wait!" She wasn't going without her father. "Dad, come on."

"I have to find Maggie first, honey." He started running in the opposite direction. "Go! I'll find you."

"Dad!" She screamed for him.

"For fuck's sake, there's no fucking time for this." Daryl was dragging her away again.

"Let go of me; I can't leave my father." She was putting her foot down.

At that moment, three walkers appeared out of nowhere.

Daryl pushed her behind his back and grabbed the crossbow that was permanently with him.

And in that second she had the opportunity to actually see the farm. There were walkers everywhere. The barn was on fire, the RV abandoned inside it. She saw Andrea and Carol running in the distance.

Was this some kind of nightmare?

While she was occupied seeing her childhood home being destroyed, Daryl had killed two of the walkers. But the third one fell on top of him, trying to bite every inch of skin available.

Beth wanted to help, she started looking for anything that could become a weapon, but there wasn't anything. This wasn't a movie where there would be a knife strategically placed on the floor right beside her so she could be the hero. There was just her porch. And walkers.

There were a lot of walkers coming their way; they had to go. What was she going to do?

But Daryl didn't need help, foolish her. He killed it with his own bare hands, splashing blood on his entire self.

While he was getting up, a truck came and stopped right in front of them. Merle put his head outside and screamed: "Get inside!"

This time, it was her that grabbed Daryl's arm and dragged him inside. Pushing him into the back seat, climbing next to him and shutting the door so hard she was surprised it didn't break.

"Drive!" The walkers were climbing the front of the car and Beth was getting desperate to get out of there.

But her scream wasn't needed, the second she closed the door Merle slammed the accelerator pedal and drove out of the farm in a speed that, in the normal world, would have gotten him a ticket for sure.

Beth didn't look back; she didn't wanna see what had become of her house. She only looked ahead, at the sea of walkers that had become her new life.

* * *

 **AN2: If you hated it please don't tell me, because I'm in love with this chapter and wouldn't be able to handle it.**


	5. The Mess I'm In

**Author's Note: Yes, it's a new chapter. And not just any chapter, it's Daryl's Pov for the very first time. Time to see what our dear archer is thinking about all of this.**

 **A very special thank you for of all of you, readers, that are reading, following and reviewing this story. You're awesome.**

 **Disclaimer: Am I on the show having an affair with the Dixon brothers? No? Then it's because I do not own The Walking Dead. Sad, but the truth.**

* * *

 _Daryl's Pov!_

Merle wasn't in the house. Damn him.

It was just his luck to be alone havin' to deal with this bullshit. They should've done something about Shane ages ago. It was obvious to everyone that he was a problem, but no, nobody wanted to be the kind of person who murdered a guy they knew. Even if said guy was a completely crazy asshole, who was bound to get them all killed.

Looking around, really looking at the people that he had surrounded himself with, Daryl couldn't imagine any of them making in that world. They were too used to the way things were before, but most of all, they weren't adaptable. They weren't able to react differently to the circumstances.

The new rule of the world was: Kill or get killed.

These people didn't know it yet, and maybe when they realized it, it would be too late.

Fuck, Merle really should've been there.

Rick going alone after Shane was a suicide mission, what was he thinking?

And the whole 'you'll all stay put' crap was insulting. Like he was the boss of them; like he could stop someone should they choose to go after Carl. Not that Daryl was interested in doing so, no. He had enough of trying to protect other people's kid.

His thoughts were interrupted by no other than the very woman who should've been looking after Carl.

"I'm just... just going outside," Lori said, very unconvincingly.

"I'll go with you," The sympathetic face Carol had apparently annoyed Lori.

"No!" She almost screamed. However, seeing the shocked look on Carol's face, she tried to smooth thinks over. "I just need to be alone for now." She then left without looking back.

For the love of God, that was the worse lie he heard in all of his pathetic life.

"Poor woman, the wait must be terrible for her," Andrea said, putting her hand on Carol's shoulder.

He snorted. Louder than he expected.

It's not every day a Dixon made a sound in that house, so, not unexpectedly, every single one of them turned their faces to him.

"You're all stupid if you think for a minute that she isn't going after them right now." Seriously, how could they all be so blind?

"What? Of course not. Lori wouldn't do this. Sure, she is worried, she's a mother, we can't help it." Carol flinched at her own words. It wasn't difficult to imagine why. The words in the present tense, as if she was still a mother, were just a cruel reminder of how fucked up the world had become. "You wouldn't understand." Her words were so patronizing it was disgusting.

"Right, I forgot the right of being worried was owned by mothers." Sometimes he wondered if people really didn't see the things that were in front of them or if they chose to ignore it consciously. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure she will not die alone in the woods, after all, we know how competent she is." He sneered the words out. Okay, so maybe he didn't like Lori very much.

Everyone looked at him like he had just cursed the name of Jesus. Horrified that he would speak about death so freely.

Sometimes he wondered what he and his brother were doing there.

But the truth was that Daryl even liked being there. The farm wasn't ideal, not by any stretch of the imagination, it was indefensible in the long run, and the inside couldn't support them all. But, it was better than everything else they had before, and it beats being on the road constantly. On the farm, he could have some minutes of peace, minutes of no obligations, and God knows he never had many of those in his life.

So this whole mess just served to make him angry. If they had simply accepted that Shane wasn't himself anymore, things would've been so much simpler. As he looked at the faces in front of him, he felt that the time they had in there was coming to an end.

 _Fuck this._

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

When he heard Hershel's scream, Daryl thought somebody had died, but the little suicidal kid had just hurt her ankle. Even if the story she and Merle were telling was bullshit, the injury appeared to be real.

He was almost surprised when she realized people were missing so quickly. Maybe she wasn't as useless as he thought.

"Carl is missing... And so is Shane." The old man lowered his eyes as though they were dead already. Curious.

"Holy fuck!" Merle was looking him in the eyes. "Officer Friendly went after them?"

"Of course he did," Daryl answered, "Wasn't going to let that crazy fucker with his son."

"But why is no one else searching?" She seemed to gather all of her courage to ask this question, which, he had to admit, was almost endearing.

He immediately frowned his face in anger though because her question reminded him of Rick's ridiculous little act. He turned his head to Merle while speaking. "Rick ordered everybody to stay put, said he had to deal with Shane on his on. Especially now that his own son is involved." He turned to speak directly to her again. "We should all be searching. Shane has gone completely insane, by the time Rick found them anything could have happened."

"Were you all out here waiting for them?" She asked him.

Waiting for them? As if. He wasn't so lucky. He had been, instead, dragged out there to look for the crazy mommy.

But he didn't get to say that.

"No, we were looking for Lori," Andrea responded. "Right after Rick left she disappeared. We were hoping she just wanted some time alone but is obvious that she went after Carl."

"Bitch just gonna get herself killed," Daryl knew his brother shared his dislike for Lori. In their world loyalty was everything, if you committed yourself to someone or something you went all the way. Fuck traitors.

When the gunshot sound reached them the only thing that Daryl could think was that Shane had finally lost it and killed Rick or Carl. It wouldn't be surprising. Sad yes, surprising no.

They all had their heads turned to the woods as though they would be able to see what was happening if they looked hard enough.

The scream that followed sent a shiver running down his spine. Daryl was familiar with the sound of desperation that preceded death. The apocalypse hadn't changed that; the sound was the same.

"Lori!" Of course, Carol was surprised. "Oh my God." He didn't expect her to start running after Lori. What was she thinking? She wouldn't find anything other than death and blood.

"Fuck! Carol, wait!" Andrea went after her.

Stupid, all of them.

By then it was pandemonium. Nobody was ready to react and do something. They knew, however, how to scream.

He looked at his brother, raising his eyebrow, asking mentally the question they were both wondering: 'Did Shane finally went and killed Rick?'

"It doesn't matter," He answered, and he was probably right. It's not like they could go and do something about it right now. "All this noise is gonna bring all the walkers right to where we are; we need to move right fucking now."

"Wait!" The suicidal kid was desperately clinging to Merle's arm. "What do you mean move? Please, we can't go, this is my house."

"Kiddo, there's no time for this. Trust me, okay? Go to your room and grab whatever is essential. Do it faster than you've ever done something in your life."

What? Since when did Merle care?

"But...but... What about my house? And Dad? And Maggie?" The kid was a complete mess, trying to get the words out.

"We'll talk to everybody else," He said, mentioning to him. "Now go!"

She paused for a second then started running to the house.

"What the fuck, Merle?" He never needed many words with his brother. He always knew what he meant.

"She asked me to help her learn to protect herself, and I agreed." There was obviously a history there, but he was aware of the fact that they didn't have enough time for it, so he settled for an incredulous look. Merle was going to explain that shit later. Now they needed to figure out what to do.

"Hey!" His brother had always had the ability to bring the attention to him, to make himself be heard. "We need to get moving. It won't be long now before walkers start to make their way here."

"We can't leave, we have nowhere to go." He was sure Merle didn't even know this kid's name. Beth's little boyfriend was as disposable as her. "Plus, it wasn't that much noise anyway. We can kill the few that come."

Hearing him talk with all that bravado could almost convince you he would actually be able to kill something that came his way. Almost.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" That was a vein in his brother's forehead that was starting to jump.

"We can't go without everybody else, Merle." Daryl liked Glenn a little better than the rest, even if he did speak too much. He did what had to be done.

At that moment, three consecutive gunshots were heard in the same direction as the first one.

"We don't have time for this." He looked Merle straight in the eyes. They needed to get moving.

His brother just nodded.

"There's no time people. Let's go."

Honestly, these people didn't even realize how lucky they were. If they had met Merle a while ago, they wouldn't be getting this warning at all. He wouldn't give a fuck.

"Let's grab our stuff." Clearly, his patience was over.

Daryl turned and saw Glenn running to the house after Maggie. Hershel was talking rapidly with the little boyfriend, and T-Dog was looking in the direction of Lori's scream, looking completely dazed. That wouldn't do, so as he passed by him, running with his brother, he slapped the back of T-Dog's head. Hard.

"Wake up man. Do something!" He screamed as he ran.

He and Merle grabbed their stuff as quickly as possible, but not quickly enough. They were almost done by the time the walkers arrived. There was no time to fight so he just grabbed Merle's arm and ran. They would have to make do without the tent.

"Give me your backpack!" Merle screamed at him. What? He didn't understand but threw it anyway. But the answer came. "I'll get a car, go grab Beth." His brother looked desperate.

Daryl ran.

Who was this girl?

He had only seen Merle look at one person with this kind of desperation, and that person was him.

He wasn't sure how to feel about this. Jealous, for sure. But there was something else. Anger. A different kind of anger than the one he usually felt — it was a feeling that made his heart clench a little too strongly.

They didn't even know this kid, having been on the farm for only a few weeks. She had no right to invoke these feelings on his brother. She had no right to make him this mad. Fuck her.

When Merle screamed 'Grab her' he didn't even think about doing anything else, Daryl just ran after her. Halfway through he realized that Beth shouldn't have been a concern, they should've left straight away. After all, they hadn't run after the others, and the others hadn't run after them. When in chaos, as they were, you grab your family, and you get the hell out of there. They would meet again somewhere when everyone was secure.

Since when did Beth become family?

Maybe she wasn't even there anymore. Maybe she had already left with the old man and her sister.

But it didn't matter. He was already at the door.

He busted through the door looking everywhere until his eyes landed on her.

She was wiping the blood out of her father's face. Was the kid fucking kidding? There was no time for this.

"Come on; we have to go." He started to drag her, certain that her father would also follow.

"Wait!" Wait? Didn't she hear the screams outside? "Dad, come on."

"I have to get Maggie first, honey." The old man just ran in the opposite direction. Was everyone in this family insane? "Go! I'll find you."

"Dad!" She screamed like a little kid.

"For fuck's sake, there's no fucking time for this." He was going to kill Merle for throwing this babysitting job at him.

"Let go of me; I can't leave my father." He was about to lose his patience.

At this moment, three walkers appeared out of nowhere.

Daryl pushed her behind his back and grabbed the crossbow almost instinctually. Protecting people was something he did, although he was not sure why.

He killed the first two easily enough, but the third one got too close. There wasn't enough time to let go of the crossbow and grab the knife.

The walker fell on top of him, making him lose his footing and fall to the ground. The knife was still in the waist of his pants, but he couldn't reach it. Both his hands were occupied holding the head of the creature trying to bite him. If he let go even for a moment he would be dead. There was no other way, so he gathered all the strength he could and smashed the decomposing skull of the walker, splashing blood on his entire self.

Fuck this; he thought again as he got up.

A truck stopped in front of the house, just in time really. Merle put his head outside and screamed: "Get inside!"

He didn't get a chance to walk on his own. Beth was already dragging him inside, almost pushing him into the back seat.

She slammed the door and screamed, "Drive!"

Which was unnecessary honestly, Merle was already on it.

As they drove away he could see dozens of walkers invading the space they had occupied seconds ago. He looked inside his car and saw his brother and Beth, maybe the only two people who survived this mess alongside with him.

Was this his new life?

 _Fuck._

* * *

 **AN2: Daryl's angry, and I don't blame him. His life is changing, and things are getting confusing and strange. He is bound to be wary because of the life he had. Things are gonna get crazy before they get good, heads up!**

 **As always please tell me what you guys thought about this chapter.**


	6. Not Like You

**Author's note: Heeeey! Here's a new chapter for you all, full of angst and anger. It was a tough chapter for me; I just couldn't get it to the way I wanted, so I wrote it and erased it a million times. But now it's ready, so, without further ado, I present to you: Not like you.**

 **As always, a special thank you to all the pretty people who follow and review this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I want Daryl and Merle to belong to me, but they don't. I know, it's very sad.**

* * *

In the first hour, she was too numb; in the second hour, she was too scared; in the third hour, she was too tired; in the fourth hour, she was too ashamed; but in the fifth hour she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Where are we going?" The car had been so silent that even her whisper sounded louder than a scream.

"Away from that," Merle pointed his thumb back. By now they couldn't see the farm even if they tried, but it was evident that it was the farm he meant.

Daryl snorted at the phrasing.

"I got that. But when are we stopping?" There was no doubt in her mind that they were stopping. "We can't look for the rest if we go too far away."

The brothers looked at each other in the same way parents look at each other when they have to explain to their children that Santa Claus ain't real.

"We ain't stopping," Daryl's words were dry.

"What?" She looked at him, incredulous. "We have to stop."

"We can't."

Were they kidding?

"Look, are you guys insane? I have to go back to my family. They are certainly looking for me."

"Wake up, you stupid kid; there's no guaranty they are even alive." Daryl seemed to take some obscure pleasure in causing her pain.

But this wouldn't shake her. No. They were alive, of course they were. They had to be.

"They're alive." She shook her head. "How can you be so quick to give up on your friends?"

"Ain't giving up on anybody, but if they are alive — and that's a big if — then they are going to have to fend for themselves for a while." Merle was trying to be reasonable. Beth didn't like it.

"Fend for themselves? While we fend for ourselves?" No. "That makes no sense. And it doesn't matter. My family is out there! We need to go after them." She was basically screaming now.

"Look, kiddo, you wanted me to teach you how to protect yourself remember? So shut up and listen." Merle was looking at her in the review mirror. "In order to look for anybody, we need a secure place to be our base. We need to have a place to bring people if they are hurt and to put our stuff in case it rains."

Base? Rain? None of this things should matter. Maggie could be dying, there was no time.

"Our gas won't last much longer, so instead of freaking out why don't you keep your eyes open and search for a good place to camp?"

There it was, the child's voice. The annoying voice people used to talk to her when they saw her as an inconvenient kid. Beth hated that.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe as deeply as she could. She wouldn't let this make her lose control. There was nothing she could so right now. It's not as if she could track her family on her own; she needed them. _'Not only for tracking,'_ a terrible little voice rang in her head. Beth wouldn't survive outside.

So she kept her eyes open and looked as hard as could for someplace to crash. Because, if she was incredibly honest with herself, a few hours of sleep were quickly becoming a priority.

XxxXxXxXxxXx

"There!" She said as she pointed to a cabin she could barely see in the distance. In fact, Beth was sure she only saw it because she had been very concentrated in finding somewhere to stop.

In the last two hours, it had become unbearable to be in the car; they had been going non-stop for seven hours now. She needed to pee desperately but didn't know how to say it without stuttering ridiculously.

The car stopped abruptly as soon as she said it.

Daryl leaned over her to see the place she was talking about, and the proximity was unnerving. Beth kept expecting him to mock her for everything and anything she did, which was ridiculous really, but she couldn't seem to control herself.

"Seems good but the fact that is visible from the road worries me," Daryl was cautious, it became evident at that moment, and it was something Beth promised herself to remember.

"Look, it doesn't need to be a perfect place. It's not like it will fit everybody inside anyway." Why were they insisting on this? "Once we find our people we'll look for a more suitable place, maybe even go back to the farm."

That was the wrong thing to say apparently because Daryl face twisted into a grimace almost instantly.

"Go back?" And there it was, the same voice he had used the other night. The voice that made it clear what he thought of her intelligence. "To the burned down farm that's infested with walkers? Are we playing the 'who says the most stupid thing' game?"

But that night wasn't Beth's best night. She was tired and needed to pee, and he was giving her the perfect outlet for her anger.

"Yes Daryl, the farm. The farm you were living in not even ten hours ago, you ungrateful bastard."

And then she hit him.

The slap was meant to be some dramatic moment, like those you saw in the movies. But the reality was so far from it that it was pathetic. Beth didn't know how to hit someone; she had no technique and no upper body strength. So the slap just served to make Daryl super angry and Merle incredulous.

Daryl grabbed the hand that second ago was on his face and squeezed it tightly.

"Do you have a death wish? Because I can surely comply with this twisted murder request." His face was dark and different from anything she had ever seen. He really looked like someone who could and would kill another human being. That human being happened to be Beth at the moment.

"Daryl," Merle's voice was a warning. He appeared to be worried about what Daryl was about to do. That only served to send crazy alarms inside Beth's mind.

"No, Merle, this has gone too far. If you want to treat her like some kind of royalty, fine, that's your fucking problem, but I won't. She needs to hear the truth." He then turned to her, his eyes shining with pleasure. "Want to know the truth, little suicide girl?" He said, finally saying out loud the cruel nickname he gave her. "Your dad is probably dead; your sister is also dead. Everybody who was on the farm is most likely dead. And even if they made it, I doubt they have what it takes to live on their own for two days. They are all like you in some way, all clinging to the way things were before, all waiting for this mess to end so they can go back to their normal life. Well, tough luck. This probably won't end for a long time, and when it does, you'll be long dead."

"Stop!" Beth screamed, covering her ears with her hands. "Shut up!"

She wasn't going to die. Nobody was dead. No more death, she just couldn't deal with any more death.

"My family is alive!" Her screams were making her throat hurt, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered if her family were dead. They were all she knew, all of her life. A life without Maggie and her Dad shouldn't be possible. "They may not be as _awesome_ as you," The sarcasm was rolling out of her. "but they aren't weak. They'll make it." They had to.

"Not weak? Like you?" He was full of derision for her. He hated her, that much was obvious. But Beth didn't understand why he didn't even care about the others, the people he had been living with for God knows how long. Maybe he didn't have any human feelings within him any longer.

"Yes, pathetic like Beth." She was gesturing to herself in broad movements. "You've made it very clear what you think about me. It's getting old already. Why did you save me then? Why not let me die?" She didn't know why she was asking this; she didn't want to know the answer. In fact, she wasn't even aware that she had been wondering why subconsciously. But the question was legit. Why had he? He obviously didn't care.

"Because I told him to." Merle had an inexpressive stare. A face that could be confounded with a calm face if you had no context. But Beth — despite what Daryl thought — was not stupid, she knew Merle didn't do calm. The moment he would blow up and lose it was surely approaching. "Because I fuckin' told him, is that enough for you?"

She didn't know if that was a rhetorical question, but since he was still looking at her, Beth thought it might be safe to answer. However, the second she opened her mouth to talk, to answer something she didn't know how the answer to, she saw Daryl shaking his head discretely in her peripherical vision. Almost as if he was giving her an advice to not speak. She would be a fool not to listen to him, even if she had every reason to believe he actually wanted to throw her to the metaphorical wolves. Or maybe not so metaphorical. Whatever.

So she lowered her head and looked at the floor.

She didn't understand Daryl. Was he giving her tips now? Was he crazy? Bipolar?

The silence reigned for several minutes, so many in fact that her neck started to hurt and she wondered if they planned to spend the night right where they were.

She gazed up and met Merle's gaze exactly where it had been before. She blushed in embarrassment. At that moment, she felt like a child who had disappointed her parents.

"Look, can't you both just try and act like adults for five minutes? We are in the middle of nowhere with walkers everywhere and you think is okay to fight because of something like this? For fuck's sake." He rubbed his forehead the same way her father did when he was tired and felt a headache coming. "Let's go see if this cabin is doable and try to get some fricking sleep. Can you do this?"

She nodded even if her opinion didn't seem to hold much weight there.

They drove for five more minutes before leaving the car in the woods, hidden from unwanted eyes. They wouldn't be using the truck anymore, as it had no more gas, but it wasn't wise to leave something that might tip others that they were there. At least that she understood.

With backpacks on their backs, they made their way back to the cabin. Beth walked in the middle, which might save her life, yes, but it made her feel Daryl's judgmental glare all the way, and she thought for a moment if maybe he wouldn't take the opportunity to kill her himself. She shivered. Living with him was going to be unbearable.

When two walkers emerged from the trees, Beth couldn't hold back a little scream. Daryl's bolts took care of them in seconds. When she turned back, she could see his unchanged expression, as if that was something he did every day. As if he wasn't killing someone, even if that someone was already dead.

"Don't be so fucking loud next time," He ordered, already walking again.

God, what had her life become?

Within minutes, they were at the cabin's door. The whole thing looked abandoned and empty, there was absolutely no sound coming from the inside, but still, the brothers did a checkup that made it seem like the house was full of criminals.

When they deemed it clear she walked inside. It was unimpressive. The house had two rooms: An empty space with two sofas and a sink, and a bathroom. That's all. Nothing else.

She slid to the floor, letting all the exhaustion of the day take over her.

She would cry, yes. But not now, not in front of Daryl and Merle. She wouldn't allow it to happen. When she cried, it would be on her own. Beth was already perceived as the weak link.

XxxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

They sat on the floor of the 'living room/bedroom/anything else.'

Beth took two cans of food out of her backpack. _God_ , cold canned food. She sincerely hoped that wouldn't become an everyday thing.

They would find somewhere safe; they would find her family and everybody else. She knew they would, no matter what Daryl said. He was an awful person who hated her because he thought she was weak.

What he said didn't matter.

When she looked up, her eyes met his. Both sets of blue eyes shining with unspoken anger.

Beth felt her stomach turn uncomfortably, and she felt something she had never felt before.

It was hate. Yes, that's what it was. She hated him.

* * *

 **AN2: I need you guys to tell me your opinions on this. I'm crazy about this chapter and can't wait to hear what you all have to say about it.**


	7. Some Very Common Ground

**Author's Note: I swear this story has a life of its own. I don't even feel like I have any control over it. It's crazy. I start to write and can't seem to stop, the words just flow out of me. It's a wonderful feeling.**

 **A huge hug to all of you who encourage me to continue to write this story. Sometimes I need the push, so I read your reviews.**

 **Disclaimer: Look, it's the eighth chapter already. If by now you don't know I don't own TWD you are in serious trouble.**

* * *

 _Merle's Pov_

She was sleeping peacefully on the couch. No nightmares, no fidgeting, no waking up desperately searching for her lost loved ones. If one took this scene entirely out of context, it would seem like a lovely night in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Beth, and her friends. Only this wasn't a vacation, the night was far from being lovely, and they certainly weren't friends.

He would have to wake her up soon, even if he didn't particularly want to. Daryl was only God knows where searching for some fresh meat for them, leaving him with the ungodly task of not only having to wake up a moody teenager but having to train her too.

Of course, he would have to do this anyway. He had promised to teach her — had promised himself that he would save this girl. And a Dixon promise wasn't something to be taken lightly. But still, it's not like he was looking forward to it. Beth knew nothing about fighting, about keeping herself safe or even helping to keep others safe.

He exhaled loudly.

Honestly, he was out of cigarettes, and the sun hadn't even risen yet. The day was shaping up to be pretty awful. Maybe he should let her sleep and worry about everything else. Maybe this could wait.

' _Wait what?_ ' His own mind supplied. ' _Wait till she's dead?_ '

There wasn't time, and Merle was sadly aware of it. Beth needed to learn now, or she would surely die.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, clutching his left pocket. He really needed a smoke.

Going through withdrawal right now wouldn't be funny.

It was starting to become annoying the amount of good sleep this girl was getting. For someone who was hitting Daryl not even five hours ago, she surely was well adept at enjoying the couch.

Ok, so maybe he was slightly jealous of the simple fact that she was getting any sleep at all. He hadn't been able to shut his eyes for even a moment. The insomnia was a gift from Will, he thought bitterly. And not the only miserable gift that son of a bitch had left him.

Fuck this; he had to wake Beth up. They had no time to lose, even if she did need the sleep.

He had, after all, promised her, he reminded himself again. He would teach her to survive; he couldn't go back on his word even if he wanted to, which he didn't. 'Cause, far more important than the promise Merle had made to Beth was the one he made to himself. He wouldn't fail to protect someone again; it would end him. And, as long as his brother was alive, he couldn't just roll up and die. He was all his baby brother had. Merle would be damned if he left his own blood and flesh in this shitty world alone. Not happening.

His priority at the moment, however, was the kid currently asleep on the ugliest couch on earth. Daryl could very well protect himself; Merle had made sure of that. Beth couldn't. The kid couldn't even hold her own body properly.

Fuck.

He had had years to teach everything to Daryl. They would always go camping in the fall — the only sort of tradition they both had. In those weeks, Merle would teach his brother to fight, to shoot, to hunt, to take care of his wounds. Merle gave him the best training he could. Daryl had been, thank God, a fast learner. Not so much with the fighting, but the survival in the wild was an innate talent for him. His brother strength was to blend in with nature, being seen only if he desired to. The fighting expertise had come later when Merle came back from the army. He lost count of how many times Daryl had saved his life by joining him in his own stupid fights. Fights because of drugs, money, pride or simply because of inebriation.

He scowled darkly. That had been his worst time, his very own rock bottom.

He tended to not think about it, but sometimes the memories would creep up on him in the most unexpected moments. May it never be said that Merle Dixon wasn't aware of how much of an idiot he could be.

He smiled sarcastically then. Maybe teaching Beth could be seen as helping her protect herself against him. Maybe if he decided to be a dick again this little piece of farm girl would put him in his place.

His laughter at that was so incredibly loud that Beth woke up, distressed, flailing her arms like crazy, almost falling off the couch.

Good, she was awake then.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"This really isn't that complicated girl," He was horrendously amused, but wouldn't show it. Of course not. He was the serious trainer.

"I fail to see how this is going to help me in any way," She said, frowning her little face in what was supposed to be a glare, he was pretty sure. But it only looked like the poked kitten again. Maybe that would be the next lesson. Being able to intimidate was almost as important as being actually dangerous. After all, one couldn't fight everyone on the planet at the same time; Merle had learned that the hard way. But still, the secret was to look like you could. Like you were unbeatable.

He watched as she approached the walker again, for the tenth time. It was all tied up to a tree, but Beth still held her breath every time she got close to it. Which was an improvement, unfortunately. The first time she had screamed and attempted to run away, not noticing it was tied and not actually chasing after her.

And that was precisely the reason she was doing this. Teaching Beth to protect herself was going to take time, God only knows how long. So, for her to survive long enough for him to teach her, she had to learn how to be silent. How to move in the woods and among the walkers without being noticed. Beth had to be invisible.

If he were 100% honest with himself, and he usually was, Daryl was the man who was supposed to be doing this. This was his area of expertise. Sure, Merle was good enough, but Daryl was excellent.

Beth would benefit enormously from 'classes' with his brother. But he wasn't dumb enough to suggest it. Daryl was most likely to kill her then to help the kid.

For fuck's sake. He really wished they wouldn't be on such bad terms. It would only complicate his life — his already hard enough life.

Unfortunately, God, as always, wasn't keen on making his life a little easier. So he would have to teach her all alone. It would be fine, though; he taught Daryl, he could teach her.

Fuck, who was he kiddin'? Teaching this kid would be nothing like it had been with his brother. Daryl had been used to the harsh life; she surely wasn't.

"Will you tell me what I'm supposed to be learning here?" She asked impatiently. "Aside from the fact that they stink like crazy, that is?"

He looked at her seriously, staring into her eyes. Those ridiculous blue eyes. The reason they were both there.

"Yes, I will." She needed to understand the danger, that was the only way to keep her alive. "Beth, I'm going to make you a fighter, have no doubts about that. No matter what I have to do. But, I can't do it overnight. I need time. You need time. So I'm going to make you a survivor first."

He pointed at the walker that was tied to the tree. It was growling at them horribly, clenching its jaw, as if waiting for food.

"This, kiddo, it's the world now. There's no running from it. It won't go away. So you need to adapt," He said, pointing at her. "You need to accept the world as it is right now, accept that it is what it is. You're going to train very hard. It's going to be the hardest thing you'll ever do. But there's no way out of it."

"I don't see the connection between what you're saying and this," She replied, nodding her head in the walker's direction. She had a confused look, it was evident she was still processing what he had just said.

"Your first reaction when seeing the walker was to run, and even worst, to scream. I'm going to take that out of you. You'll be able to see a dozen of walkers coming your way and be calm about it. You'll have to be. Until you can protect yourself, Beth, you're going to become a silent shadow."

As he said the last words, he gazed away, into the woods, where Daryl was hidden. No matter what they thought, in the end, Beth and his brother would share some very common ground.

Wasn't that just marvelous?

* * *

 **AN2: Merle, why won't you teach me? I'm jealous.**


	8. Let's Vote

**Author's Note: First of all I want to address a review that this story had. The review said: "You must really hate the character of Daryl." I don't know if that is how the story was perceived by that person alone or if that was the consensus. Be as it may, I want to make it clear that I love Daryl, in fact, he is my personal favorite in the show, and when it looked like he was going to die in TWD, I was as horrified as everybody else.**

 **With that being said, my Daryl is only human. He isn't made of steel. He gets angry, frustrated, jealous, scared and afraid. So yes, he will have his moments where he will be cruel and an asshole, as we all do. But he's still Daryl, and he will be awesome. Just wait and see.**

 **With that being said, I now present a brand new chapter to you guys. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.**

 **A huuuuuuuge thanks for all the reviews. Serious guys, I smile every time I receive one. Knowing someone is reading this and having a good time is all I could ever hope.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not, I repeat, I do not own TWD.**

* * *

Beth took a carefully calculated step to the right.

And immediately heard the distinctive sound of a tree branch snapping. Loudly.

"Fuck!" She cursed softly.

And widened her eyes as soon as the words crossed her mouth. Beth Greene didn't curse, not at all. It wasn't something her catholic father would've approved, anyway. But it was definitely something Merle Dixon often said, and when he didn't explicitly said it the word was clearly being thought loudly inside his head. She hadn't been aware that his habit had become hers.

Not like it mattered anyway. Her father wasn't there to scold her. Who knows? Maybe he really was dead, and that would mean carte blanche to say whatever she pleased.

She gripped the knife in her hand strongly, trying to snap out of the dark thoughts that sometimes took hold of her at the most unpredictable times.

Her father wasn't dead. He was alive. Not dead. Alive.

That was the mantra she said to herself. And the thing was, Beth truly believed he was alive, but sometimes the doubt would creep up on her and Daryl's voice would whisper in her ear about how stupid and naive she was being. There was no controlling it.

"You're awful at this." Almost like conjured, Daryl was suddenly right there. Leaning against a tree next to her, as though he was there the entire time.

"I know," She admitted, painfully aware of how difficult this was being. Merle wasn't the most patient teacher on the planet, and, after a week, he had already made it clear, in no uncertain terms, how much better she should be by now.

Beth could say a lot else. She could say that this was her first week, that she never needed to be this quiet before, that she was trying as hard as she could... But in the end, it was all excuses. It didn't matter why she wasn't getting it, what mattered was the lack of results both of them could see in her.

It was depressing, but, nonetheless, the truth.

"You're not looking at the whole forest. Instead, you're focussing ridiculously hard on a single piece of ground, and that puts you on the worst path possible. If you saw the whole picture you could imagine all the possibilities and, consequently, choose the easiest way." He was speaking so calmly that she didn't dare to breathe a little bit louder, much less say something.

He wasn't expecting an answer anyway, it seemed, because he continued without a pause.

"Look ahead," He pointed to the path right ahead of her. "if you were to continue in this direction you'll end up having to choose between stepping on a pile of leaves or over that big hole. None of which are preferable choices. If you'd looked at what was in front of you, rather than going left you would have gone to the northeast, where the track was much more suitable."

"I know Merle is not only training you to be quiet and efficient. It's not difficult to see he is trying to make a tracker out of you, and that's a serious thing. Having that particular set of skills makes people expect you to not only find them food but to locate the way they should follow. That's some big responsibility, not to be taken lightly." His face was intense in a way Beth had never seen before — like he was trying to pass on some important message. "Are you ready to have people die because of your decisions?"

"Are you kidding me?" She asked, her hands shaking. "I don't even know how to do anything. I barely get half a mile away from the cabin before I inevitably draw walkers with the noise I make."

"Do you kill them?"

"What?"

"The walkers, do you kill them?"

"No." Beth knew that wasn't the answer he wanted. "Merle always does it."

"And when you come here alone?" He pressed. "Like right now."

"I run." She felt her face becoming all warm. Damn.

"Run?" He was frowning darkly at her now. "Why?"

She was sure he knew why. "Because I'm afraid." _Weak Beth_. Her hands were shaking so hard now that is was notable.

"Afraid to kill or afraid to face your fears?" His eyes were focusing on her hands. "Merle taught you how to get close to them, how to face them. So what's the problem?"

Damn.

"I'm not ready to kill," She whispered as softly as she could, not wanting her dirty secret to be spoken at all.

"I can't hear you." You know what? Beth was, at that moment, certain that he had, indeed, heard her perfectly clear. But it wasn't enough to make her say it. No. He wanted her to scream it to the world.

"I'm not ready to kill," She repeated, trying to look him in the eyes.

"And you think that someday you'll be ready? That anyone is ever ready to kill?"

"You seem okay with it." God, she couldn't believe she said it.

"You think so?" He didn't look angry, which was both great and surprising.

"Yes, I do. I mean, you always seem so unaffected by everything. Like you're not surprised by any of this," Beth said, gesturing to the space surrounding them. "Almost as if the apocalypse is nothing but an inconvenience to you. Don't you get frustrated? Don't you miss your life?"

"Unaffected? My old life sucked, this life sucks. There's nothing to miss," He said, as a matter of fact.

She frowned and took a step forward. "Daryl..." She wanted to say a lot, wanted to ask him about his life but didn't know what to say.

"Don't," He said forcefully. "Spare me. I don't need your pity."

"I couldn't pity you if I tried," She replied truthfully, then, gesturing to her own figure, she added. "As we are right now, I'm way more pitiful than you could ever hope to be Mr. Dixon."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"It's been two weeks now. How long must I wait before we can fucking go after my family?" Beth wasn't screaming, per se, she liked to think that she was a strong woman exposing her thoughts.

The brothers turned to each other to share looks, but Beth simply wasn't having it that day.

"Could you not?" At their confused faces, she continued. "Exclude me, that's it." She then softened her features. "I know you guys are used to doing everything together, only the two of you. But it's really frustrating to feel like I'm never included in the discussions. I haven't learned Dixon Talk yet, so the looks you share just make me more confused."

Well, that was a first. The Dixon brothers looked awkward. If the situation weren't so serious, Beth would've laughed.

"Just try to talk instead of trading looks," she added. "It can't be that hard."

"Fine." Merle was the first to snap out of it. "I think you're not strong enough to survive out there yet." Ouch. Maybe the looks weren't so bad.

"Yes, perhaps I'm not. But we don't have the time to make me competent." She was trying to be reasonable. "Every minute we wait could mean the death somebody. I'll have to learn as we go."

"That would be lovely if the world wasn't infested with dead people walking and trying to murder you," Merle replied. " We'll have to sleep in the woods. Are you aware of that?"

"Only for a few nights." Beth didn't understand the point. "Weren't we keeping the cabin as a return point?"

"No." Merle's answer was dry and cutting. "You were hysterical that night, and I needed you to agree to stay put. We are not coming back here."

"Well, that was nice of you." She made sure her tone was transmitting all of her displeasure.

"We have to return to the farm," Daryl added. "That will be where the tracks are, with any luck."

The farm. It was probably all destroyed and burned. Her childhood house, the place where she had been born.

"But what if they did the same thing we did and drove away?" There, she said the question that was haunting her the whole time they were in the cabin.

"Then there's nothing we can do," Merle answer was like a sentence being giving.

Beth hugged her knees tight. What if she never saw her family again?

"Look, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Apparently, it was Daryl's turn to be reasonable. "Let's focus on getting there first."

He was right, of course. But it wasn't easy to forget the fact that she may never see her sister again. Or her father. Or Jimmy.

Fuck, _Jimmy_.

She realized she hadn't thought about him before. What kind of girlfriend didn't think about their boyfriend's well-being? There she was, worried sick for her family, wondering how they were and where they may be, and she hadn't even spared a thought to Jimmy.

"Did you see Jimmy before we left?" Beth was looking at both of them. Desperately trying to believe he had been with Maggie.

"The little boyfriend?" Merle laughed. "He seemed to think he could take on the whole herd of walkers."

"No!" He wouldn't be so stupid, surely.

"Yes, actually." Daryl looked bored with this conversation. "He suggested we all stayed at the farm and not worry about a thing."

"He must have left when the walkers arrived." Yes, that's what she would believe. He left. He was alive. They were all alive.

"Of course, with all his skills I have no doubt he's alive," Merle answered, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, what we need to decide is what we're going to do. Wait for a little longer or go to the farm?"

They all looked at each other, not knowing how to decide.

"You know what? Let's vote." Merle apparently got tired of waiting.

"Do I get a vote too?" Beth was sure she deserved a vote, it was her life after all. But with Merle, you could never be certain.

"You get half a vote, kiddo." He looked very amused at her question.

"Damn you; I want a whole vote." She was trying to control the pouting that she felt forming on her face.

As Merle opened his mouth to say something — probably something better left unsaid — Daryl spoke: "Yes, you get a whole vote. Don't fall for Merle's stupid games." Ok, he totally didn't need to use a tone that suggested she was a silly kid. "Let's just fucking vote already."

"I say no. " Merle was serious now. "Beth isn't ready; she needs more time."

"I vote yes." Beth knew her vote was predictable. "There's no time to lose. I can learn as I go."

They both turned to Daryl, who now had to decide. Beth already knew he would vote no. He didn't care for her family or anybody else; there was no reason for him to vote any different.

So no one was more surprised than her when he said, without a pause: "Yes, I vote for us to go." He turned to Merle and completed. "We've been here too long as it is. We need to move Merle. It's time."

And, just like that, it was decided. They were going back to the farm.

Beth looked through the window and hoped the rain didn't come back. Walking in the mud wouldn't be funny.

* * *

 **AN2: Merle being protective, Daryl being understanding and Beth remembering she has a boyfriend. What is next? The apocalypse?**

 **Sorry, I couldn't help myself.**


	9. This Cruel World

**Author's Note: You all waited, and now the wait is over. Chapter ten is right here, warm and ready. Exactly as I wished Daryl was in my bed, but it isn't meant to be. Sadly.**

 **As always I profoundly thank each and everyone who reviewed and followed this lovely story I'm trying to write. It's an indescribable feeling hearing your kind words of support.**

 **Disclaimer: I. DO. NOT. OWN. TWD.**

 **God, it felt so good to get that out there. The thought that someone might have thought otherwise was eating my insides.**

* * *

 _Daryl's Pov_

Daryl still wasn't sure why he had voted yes to this freaking crazy idea. The truth was that, although the cabin hadn't been ideal by any stretch of the imagination, it also wasn't the worst place they've been. He had successfully hunted around it every time they've needed it, there was water nearby and enough space around it that they would hardly get surrounded by possible enemies.

The cabin had been fine.

So why had he voted to abandon it to chase lost family members of a girl he wasn't even sure he liked? It was the million dollar question. Albeit, maybe the saying needed a little changing. Dollar bills were worse than useless in this new world, so perhaps it would be better to say something like 'The million bullet question.'

God, the fact that he thought that was even a little bit funny was the saddest thing ever.

He sighed quietly. He was so tired.

His life hadn't been great before all this, not at all, but the whole 'dead people trying to kill you' thing was seriously fucked up. He never got more than a few hours of sleep, always worrying about anything and everything. That he couldn't seem to decide if this life was better or worse than the one he had before was a testament to the crappy childhood he had.

Fuck Will. The day he died was one of the best in his life, even if he hadn't killed him himself.

He rubbed his forehead.

Daryl hated that he had become the type of person who enjoys someone else's death. But he couldn't muster a single drop of tear for Will, not even a ghost of sadness. And that only proved the damage he had left in Daryl.

If he ever had kids, Daryl would never treat them like that.

He shook his head, where the fuck had that come from? Kids? In this fucked up world? With him? Not a single woman in her right mind would agree to that.

Not that he wanted to be a father — _no_ — of course not. Fatherhood would never agree with him. It would just be another thing he would fail in his life.

No, definitely no kids.

 _Not like Merle hadn't gone and adopted a kid for them anyway_ , he thought darkly, looking at the blond girl in front of him.

He didn't know what to think of her. She was weak and a weight for both him and his brother, but at the same time her strong will to learn was something he could relate to quite strongly. She shared the food she had with absolutely no protest and tried to help whenever she could. The fact that she was trying to learn how to track made all of his insides turn, and he hadn't decided why yet.

Daryl sometimes wanted to teach her all sorts of things, but seconds later she would do something so incredibly childish that it made him want to strangle her with his bare hands.

How could a single person be so insufferable?

That's not even to mention the whole 'No one in my family is dead' talk. To think that he was walking in the middle of a proverbial sea of walkers to search for the little princess' boyfriend was insulting and disgusting.

Why had he agreed to this?

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

 _Beth's Pov_

Beth considered herself a realistic person. She hadn't expected a peaceful journey full of love and discovery, but she also couldn't have imagined that three hours after they left the cabin, she would be running for her life.

Honestly, was her whole life's karma finally catching up with her?

Her boots hitting the ground every second was the only sound breaking the otherwise silent forest. She was starting to run out of breath and the backpack she was carrying was getting heavier by the minute. Soon she would have no choice but to stop — if she didn't fall and break her neck first.

To be quite honest, though, she should've stopped a long time ago. There was no one chasing her — at least not any walkers; she damn hoped the boys were after her.

This situation was absurd, really; it shouldn't have happened. She had left the brothers for only a few minutes to pee, that's all. Beth had been trying to save some of her dignity and chose a spot further away than strictly needed so that they couldn't hear her going. It was still embarrassing for her, no matter how much she tried to be reasonable.

She had been holding it back for an hour, so the pee wasn't as fast as she would've liked it to be. It was loud and long, everything it mustn't be in the freaking apocalypse. So what came next shouldn't have surprised her.

Beth had heard them before she saw 'em. The grunts and the moaning. But what was she suppose to do? Run while peeing? And trip on the pants not long after? No. There was nothing to do but wait and try to get it done as fast as possible.

Only, it hadn't been fast enough. By the time Beth was pulling her pants up the walkers were almost falling over her, so, with no other option, she did what she had to do. She screamed. She screamed for Merle and ran at the same time, pushing the walkers away as hard as she could.

If she had one ounce of courage in her, Beth would've fought. Done as much damage as she could so Merle had an easy job. Or, at least, she should've run to the woods quietly, lost the walkers and found the brothers after it. But no, she did it all wrong. She put both Daryl and Merle in danger and didn't even stay to help.

God, they really would leave her after that. She was sure of it.

To top it off, her feet wouldn't obey her. She was tired of running and thirsty as hell.

Stop. Stop. Stop. **STOP.**

Fuck, finally.

The air rushed into her lungs, burning all the way down. Her legs were barely holding her up, and the sole of her feet was killing her.

Maybe leaving the cabin hadn't been her best idea. She hadn't been ready; Merle had it right.

She let herself fall to the floor and leaned her whole weight into the tree behind her. Worst Monday of her life.

Awesome. Just awesome.

She was lost in the middle of god-knows-where, all alone. She didn't even know in which direction she had run.

The tears were rushing down her face; the air was getting stuck in the middle of her throat. All she could see were the trees around her, and that made her hate green a little bit. Couldn't this awful place have a damn river so she could lie down and let herself be carried?

No. She wiped her tears and forced herself to stop crying. She had decided to live, and nothing would make that change, not even walkers. Beth would try to follow the footsteps she left on the ground and hope to run into Daryl tracking her down.

Yes, that's what she would do.

She heard a noise, probably a walker stepping on a branch. She needed to leave, got up and started to walk back, following the tracks she had made.

If she hadn't been so nervous about finding her way back to the brothers, she would've followed the advice Daryl had given her about looking at the whole forest instead of only looking at the ground in front of her.

Unfortunately for her, the mistake would cost her dearly. The apocalypse wasn't a very forgiving time after all.

She didn't realize she was being surrounded. In fact, she didn't see the man right in front of her path until she ran right into him.

Said man grabbed her by the waist. "Well, what do we have here, fellows. A beautiful girl all by herself. Now, that just won't do," He said darkly, tracing the features of her face with his dirty fingers.

* * *

 **AN2: Little princess Beth is about to be introduced to the real world very quickly. The world has become very cruel Beth. Run, run and don't ever let them catch you.**


	10. Darkness

**Author's Note: Couldn't be more excited about this chapter, even though it was tough to write and took a lot out of me. It really is a turning point to all of them and it will change everything. Is sad, I know, but it serves a crucial purpose in their growing bond.**

 **Enormous thanks to all who have followed and reviewed this story. I can't say how amazing you guys are.**

 **Disclaimer: The day I own The Walking Dead, will be the day Merle and Daryl leave the show to come and live with my gorgeous self.**

* * *

 _I'm not ready to fight all these guys, and I'm painfully aware of it._

Beth had only been training for two weeks; she still depended on the brothers. She knew her own power, or lack of it, very well. It had been one of the first things Merle drilled into her head. Know your strengths and your weakness, better than anyone else.

So her only chance was to cause as much of a distraction and a scene as she could, to attract the attention of the brothers. And yet, at the same time she was bursting with doubts because the noise was sure to attract walkers as well.

Beth knew she was walking a real fine line there.

She's a girl, all by herself, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by strange men. Men who had, undoubtedly, bad intentions. What could she do?

She needed to get away, and yet the only weapon she had were a gun she was not very good in using, a big knife around her waist and a tiny one hidden inside her boots, on the right foot — just waiting for a chance to be used against a person trying to do her harm.

What could she do? With two knives and a gun against all these men around her?

She couldn't count accurately — she wasn't facing all of them. But, if she had to guess, she would say there were, at least, eight men there. Eight big, heavily armed, men.

She had to think quickly. What would give her a bigger chance of living?

The strange dude in front of her was talking, she could tell, but she wasn't listening. Not really. She had to think.

He was probably threatening her anyway...

She decided to do the best she could. After all, if she did nothing, she would probably die a horrible death. Against those odds, all else seemed like a good plan.

Beth grabbed the knife around her waist and tried very hard to stab the man in front of her in the chest. And it wasn't a half bad attempt, she realized. It was faster than anything she had ever done before.

But he was quicker than her, of course he was. He grabbed her arm and threw the knife away. Mocking her with the speed with which he did it — and not only with the speed, but with the proficiency. Proficiency which, unfortunately, she sorely lacked.

But that's okay; that had been only a diversion. Beth wasn't that dumb; she knew the hit wasn't going to make it. But at that moment, in that split-second in which he turned to disarm her, she quickly bent a little bit to grab the knife that was hidden in her right-foot boot and stabbed the man right in the thigh.

Making him scream like a freaking dying cow.

God, Merle was really, really making her stick with a crappy language.

But she did it; the guy was making a lot of noise, all of them were.

Good.

They didn't know if they were supposed to grab her, help the guy on the ground, shoot her...So they were all making a lot of noises.

Great.

Two guys then grabbed her brutally, while three others went to help the awful man screaming. To try and stop the bleeding in his leg, she supposed.

She took that moment to scream as high as she could, struggling against the grasp the men had on her.

That was her chance.

They tried to shut her down, but she kept struggling and trying to run away. She wouldn't give up.

Until one guy punched her in the face so damn hard, she was sure it almost broke her nose. She was lucky. If he had aimed a little to the left, she would have a broken nose.

And, in that god-forsaken world, who was going to put it in the right place? It wasn't even an esthetic matter, fuck no. She needed the nose to breathe; she needed her nose in the right place.

And yet, there wasn't a sign of the brothers. What if that had been all for nothing? What if she wasted all of her strength in vain? She had caused a little distraction, yes, but it wasn't going to help her in the long run. In fact, it wasn't helping her right now. It did cause her a little bit of satisfaction to sink that knife in the leg of a man who had wanted to hurt her in who knows what ways. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to save her.

When had she ever been enough to save herself? Never.

She felt the depression that had been clinging on to her whispering in her brain, whispering in the ears. _What did you think, Beth?_ _Did you really think that this would be enough? That you were going to make it? That you were going to save yourself? What a joke._

And yet, her arms didn't stop struggling; her foot didn't stop trying to run away...She was still trying to save herself. She was at war with herself.

Beth was trying not to give up, and yet everything in her brain was telling her to do so. It was like she was two persons at once, and she didn't know how long she could fight the other half, the bad half.

And suddenly, there was noise. The sound she had wanted to hear. Fight. Good, the brothers had arrived. Thank God for small mercies.

XxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxx

There were a time and place for planned, silent arrivals. And Beth knew that the Dixon brothers preferred to wait for those times. They had a reason for it — and an excellent one at that. Being as quiet as they were was tough, Beth could attest to that. Almost nobody could hear them approaching, and it made the enemy vulnerable. It was a perfect situation for silent murders.

Unfortunately, Beth knew she had put them in a situation that waiting wouldn't be possible. If they wished to save her, that's it. And so, probably going against every instinct they gathered in all their years, Merle and Daryl, came blasting. Shooting every man in sight.

It would've worked great too if Beth hadn't made so much noise, attracting every. Single. Walker. Within' hearing distance.

The undead started to emerge out of the wood, slowly, but surely. One biting the neck of the guy who had punched Beth, causing him to release her and scream in a way that would haunt her forever.

At that moment, hell broke free.

Gunshots were being fired at all seconds; people were running, the walkers were chasing all unfortunate souls in their path and Beth was trying to hide somewhere not infested with dead people.

She needed to get to Merle; there was no time to waste.

She didn't know what she was going to do. The only thing she knew she had to do was find Merle, and yet that meant very little in the chaos that had become the little path of the forest they were occupying. She couldn't even see him; there were so many walkers.

Almost like the farm.

She saw a lot of the bad guys. The type of guys who took advantage of the apocalypse to corner women in the middle of the woods to force them to do unspeakable things. She didn't even know what they were going to do to her; maybe they wanted to rape her, maybe they wanted to torture her, maybe they wanted to keep her or just kill her. She didn't know what kind of sociopaths they were, only that they were some kind. And that enough for her not to want any type of contact with them whatsoever.

She wanted the brothers; she wanted Daryl and Merle.

In the weeks they've been together things had been awkward, sad, miserable... all sorts of things, yes. But it had also been good. They really did try.

Merle tried all he could to make her someone stronger, someone more capable, someone who would know exactly what to do in the kind of situation she was in. He had been trying a lot with her. He wasn't the most patient guy in the world, but he did try, and she didn't even know why.

She was very grateful, even though she knew she hadn't shown one bit of her gratefulness to him. And that made her a little sad, did he even know how much she appreciated all he had done for her? All he continued to do?

And Daryl, she had spoken to him so little. And still, he had offered her advice when she needed, saved her life on the farm, and he was there, right now, trying to save her ass. When he could've grabbed Merle and ran away. They could've just left her there, for all they knew she had left them behind. No one would blame them; there was nobody to blame them around.

They could survive very well on their own. Merle and Daryl surely didn't need her; she was the one who needed them. She was the one who needed someone else. She needed them. Desperately.

She needed to find them, right now. Because if she didn't, even if the other guys miraculously disappeared, and she was there all alone, she wouldn't be able to make it. And not only because she didn't have the capacity to do so, not only because she wasn't able to, but 'cause she didn't want to. She didn't want to be alone.

Beth had lost her mother, her brother; she didn't know where her father, sister, and boyfriend were... They were all she had. They were sort of like a family to her. And, even though she knew they didn't think of her as family — maybe not even close, they were still there for her. And that was more than most people in her life had done.

So, she straightened her shoulder as much as she could, and took the safety off her gun. And she went to face the world.

Beth walked away from the tree she had been hiding, only to immediately face a walker. A walker that almost fell on top of her. It was instinctual, she shot it. Blood started to pour out of the wound right on her face, almost making her sick. But she had done it; she had killed for the first time. Only there was no time to think about it, not even to mourn. She had to get up and do it again, and so she did. She pushed the body off of her and got up again.

Only to find out there weren't so many walkers anymore. Only to find Merle unconsciously being held by two of the bad guys. Only for her to run, because the bad guy who had been talking to her, the one with a really dark face and a wound to his leg, was pointing a gun at Daryl. He was trying to shoot Daryl; he was going to kill him.

And at that moment, she screamed as loudly as she could:

 _"DARYL!"_

And everyone turned to face her at once, the gun in his hand firing the shot. The horrible shoot.

She never did see where the shot hit, only that Daryl immediately doubled up in the ground, bleeding.

She was running in his direction.

No, no, no. Not Daryl.

That couldn't be happening.

He was bleeding from only God knows where and nobody was doing anything to help him. She was going to help him; maybe she could help him. She was going to save him.

But before she could reach him, the guy who shot Daryl, the man who talked to her, the guy who represented all the bad things that had happened that day, stopped her. Grabbed her.

And she shot him; she was so angry.

A wrong shot.

She meant to hit his chest, but instead only scrapped his shoulder.

Fuck.

He grabbed her and hit her on the head with his gun.

And there was darkness and nothing else.

* * *

 **AN2: Soooooooo, don't leave me hanging! Tell me what you all think about it and, please, let me know what you guys imagine will happen. I'm curious. Kisses to all who guess correctly.**


	11. The Real Problem

**Author's Note: And... I'm back.**

 **I know, I know. There are no good enough excuses for my long absence. My life is simply too busy, that's it. But I promise to try and do better, just don't kill me.**

 **I want you guys to know that I'm not abandoning this story, ever. This is my baby, and I'll finish it, it just might take a little while.**

 **Thank you all for the lovely reviews, you are amazing.**

 **Trigger Warning: Mention of torture. (No rape)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own TWD. Life is just unfair, I know.**

* * *

How many days must one spend in a room before he/she became strangely familiar with it?

Beth knew the answer to that question by now.

Two weeks.

That was all it took for her to know every little detail about the space she was occupying.

The room had a graded window, an unused table, a chair — to which she was tied — and a bucket. That's all. Beth would know.

After all, she spent the past two weeks in that old, smelly room. Never leaving it, only sitting there, in a very uncomfortable chair, waiting for Jonathan to come back every day.

By now, she was familiar with the 157 bricks covering the left wall, the small spider on the bottom corner of the said wall, the crack on the floor by the door... She knew it all.

She also gained, in those two weeks, a whole new body awareness. All her muscles and bones that she somehow skillfully ignored all her life — like most people — were making themselves known in the worst way possible.

Every inch of her not bleeding was aching.

Never in her life had she needed God more, but paradoxically, Beth never felt more skeptical. If her father heard half of the thoughts running through her mind lately, he would be horrified. But, such was life. If God were real, he wouldn't have allowed things to go the way they did. No dead would be rising; no unnecessary deaths would be happening, no kidnapping and torture every day...

The reality was the room Beth was occupying on the fourth floor of an old building. The real world was Georgia, infested with people trying to kill each other — dead or living.

Beth hated the real world. She hated that Merle was being kept in a place far away from her, probably being tortured as well. She hated that Daryl was dead. She hated that she wasn't capable of being strong.

Life was unfair, and Beth had a lot of time to come to terms with it. She accepted the truth now, and that made all the difference.

She had been lying to herself all the time, since her mother's and Shawn's death. Beth clung to the past like a child clings to a stuffed animal, not really accepting the facts that were happening, only reacting to the actions around her. Not actively adapting.

Beth lived a pretty lie and paid the price for it — was still paying at all seconds in that room.

Daryl's death was a constant proof of her naivety. No wonder he had always hated her. He must have sensed her weakness, her illusions. He probably knew she would only be a liability and he had been right.

Merle tried to shape her into someone worth living, someone who could survive and help them. And she repaid him how? By getting his brother killed and by sentencing him to a long, terrible death. And she never even thanked them for saving her life.

Now, as a punishment, she was tied to a chair. Her constantly bruised body proved that she was paying for it.

The sun was almost gone, she noted. Almost time for Jonathan's visits, if one could call his time with her a visit. She wondered what was going to happen this time, would he be angry, finally?

Every day was the same, in a way. Every day Beth woke up knowing that she wasn't going to make it, that that would be the day her body was going to crumble under pressure. Every new day was her last.

However, she was still breathing. Somehow she survived. When was this going to end?

Her depressing thoughts were interrupted by Jonathan's arrival. He entered the room like he always did, smiling. He was always happy, no matter what. She screamed, tried to hit him, cursed his existence... Beth tried it all.

But no, his ridiculous smile remained there, taunting her with its permanence. And she hated it — hated him — with all she had. Beth never imagined she could hate a person so much. She wanted to hurt him, to make him pay for all he'd done... She wanted to kill him with her bare hands and watch as his blood left his miserable body.

Jonathan took his gun and knife out and softly put them on the table. Beth didn't know if he did that to make her fear her possible death or to taunt her with the sweet possibility of his.

"Lovely Beth, how are you on this fine day?" He asked, knowing she could never answer.

The real problem of the apocalypse, Beth realized, wasn't the walkers, it was the people. It was what individuals were led to do when pushed to their limits. The question that plagued all of them: What were you willing to do to save yourself and those you love?

Beth never thought about it before; she never had to. And if a month ago someone asked her that, she was sure her answer would be vastly different. Pain changes you in a way nothing else can.

So Beth just sat there, planning a thousand ways to kill him.

XxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXx

When it came, it wasn't like in the movies; there were no explosions, no gunshots, no desperate screams. In fact, Beth didn't realize anything was happening, and, thankfully, neither did Jonathan. He was still going on and on about how great he was and how lucky she was to have him. She stopped paying attention to his monologs after the first five days, honestly.

Beth was sitting, face inevitably turning purple from the last slap he delivered to her face, wondering when Jonathan was going to shut up. He said it was to make her understand how much he was willing to teach her. Beth was still uncertain of what he meant by that. However, Jonathan was a very disturbed human being, so she considered her ignorance of his mind a small blessing.

But the point was, she heard nothing. She was trying to ignore the reality until people started running. People were running on the stairs. And then she heard it, Merle's voice! There was no mistaking it; he was escaping.

Beth hadn't realized how much the thought of being alone terrified her, until that moment. No matter where he was, knowing that Merle was alive and in the same building as she was, kept her sane. Even if he hated her, even if he wanted to kill her himself, she wanted to be near him, not with these disgusting men. Dying somewhere far away from this building would be better than staying where she was.

She needed a plan, fast. Beth was lucky, in his confidence Jonathan got careless. He hadn't checked the rope on her wrists since he tied her up. Every day she managed to tear it a little bit, and it was almost loose. If she put enough force behind it, she could snap it with a single push. It would hurt, but she was beyond caring about pain. She needed to find Merle before he got away.

Jonathan turned to look out the window to see what was happening and it was the chance she had been waiting. She snapped her hands-free, putting all her remaining force behind the movement, and reached forward to grab the gun in front of her. Without hesitation, she turned to him and fired. It was impossible to miss it, being as close as she was, and she didn't.

She could see his surprised face as he turned to face her, trying to grab the gun out of her hands even after being shot. His other hand came to his chest, pressing the wound there. He growled, angry and in pain. Beth didn't care, she felt a numbness spreading all through her body, leaving her feeling nothing but determination. She needed to kill Jonathan to escape and she wouldn't fail this time.

Beth shot him in the chest time after time until there weren't any bullets left. Jonathan fell on the floor, bleeding from seven different places at the same time. He wasn't going to recover from that, ever, and if that made Beth that much happier, so be it.

There was no time to feel relieved for the end of her imprisonment or avenged by his death. The satisfaction was there, dark and terrible, but it would have to be revisited later.

She quickly took the knife on top of the table and ran, going after the voices she was hearing. Merle screamed something and footsteps echoed from the stairway — two sets of legs. There was someone following Merle! She positioned herself right next to the end of the stairs, waiting. She would surprise whoever was following Merle and kill him, although she was intrigued by Merle's lack of action.

The adrenaline was rushing through her veins, her heart beating fast, her palms sweaty. She was finally going to be free of this nightmare.

The rushed steps were getting closer; they were almost there. Beth was ready, the knife firm in her hand. Suddenly Merle was right in front of her, but there was no time to be happy or relieved because the second man came right after him. He was wearing all black and held a crossbow in his hands, looking sharp as ever.

A crossbow. A very familiar crossbow.

The knife fell from her hands at the same time she took a step back.

"Daryl?" She whispered, incredulously.

He turned to her and Beth could see his face clearly, it was Daryl. She saw him, but couldn't believe what her eyes were showing her. Daryl was dead; she had seen him die, right in front of her.

"Beth, are you okay? We have to go, can you walk?" Merle was speaking fast, and all she could do was nod. Yes, she could walk.

"Are you really alive?" Beth asked Daryl, reaching out to touch the body in front of her. Maybe she was hallucinating, maybe she died.

"Yes, I'm alive. However, if we don't run now, we soon won't be," He reassured her and pushed her forward.

"Wait! This way is the roof, how are we going to escape?" She hoped they had a better plan other than jumping. Maybe they had some crazy parkour tricks, but she sure as hell didn't.

They didn't answer her, just opened the door and showed her the great escape plan they had.

"Are you kidding? We'll fall and die!" Okay, so maybe it was better to die here than with Jonathan, but still... It was some big fall from the roof to the floor.

The slim wood that connected where they were to the next building didn't look like it would hold her weight. Not at all.

"Just go, dammit," Daryl was bruised, covered in blood and limping from his left leg, but it was so fucking good to see him. Beth couldn't hold herself back, she reached forward and hugged him.

"I thought you were dead," She whispered.

He didn't hug her back, but Daryl didn't pull back from her, and that was enough.

The emotional moment was cut short by Merle. He grabbed her and pushed her to the wood on the edge of the roof.

"Walk, kiddo; we have to go." He went after her, keeping her from going back. Which was ridiculous and unnecessary, Beth wouldn't go back. No fucking way.

There were men after them; she could hear the screaming. They needed to run. Beth jumped forward and landed on the concrete. She turned to see Merle breaking the wood in half.

"Let's go, the building is clear. There's a car nearby," Daryl said and went ahead, leading the way. They rushed down the stairs of the building until they reached the kitchen. Daryl opened the door, and they ran towards the trees, gunshots echoing behind them; How close was this car?

Suddenly an old red pickup appeared, parked behind a big tree.

"Get in," Daryl said, reaching inside to grab a gun.

Merle got in the driver's seat, and Beth went in the back. Five men came into view, shooting their way. Daryl shot back.

"Daryl, we need to go!" Merle screamed.

What was Daryl doing? They couldn't wait.

Beth then opened her door and grabbed Daryl, pushing him in. He landed half on the floor of the car and half on the seat, but that was good enough for Beth.

She closed the door and took the gun from Daryl's hand. While Merle drove away, Beth shot the guys she could see. She probably didn't hit any of them, but knowing that she was escaping and shooting their way out was sufficient for her to smile.

Daryl was alive, and she was free, she would worry about anything else later.

* * *

 **AN2: Daryl's alive!**

 **I'm so excited about what's next...**


	12. Healing Takes Time

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry guys! I know it took me too long to get this chapter done and I want to apologize. With this chapter being such a turning point for them I didn't want to rush it. I hope you'll understand it better while reading it.**

 **I'm trying to find a healthy balance between my personal life and my work hours, but it's a lot more complicated than I thought it would be. I have to say I'm admiring fanfiction writers more and more each passing day. It's not easy.**

 **Anyway, thank you, as always, for all the fantastic reviews. You all have no idea how much it means to me that this story is touching people in some way.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead nor anything related to it. I just like to pretend Beth is still very much alive and play with that.**

* * *

It wasn't the first time Beth found herself sitting in a car in silence with Merle and Daryl. In fact, the situations were so similar she almost felt like it was deja vú. However, not everything was the same, starting with the pungent smell of blood that permeated the air.

They were all bleeding, but Daryl's pants were getting soaked at an alarming rate. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Daryl, your leg!" She said, alarmed.

"I know," He answered, not even blinking.

"You know?" Beth repeated, incredulous. "We need to stop right now. You can't lose all that blood."

Merle immediately swerved the car to the left and stopped.

"It's not a big deal, ok?" Daryl tried to downplay it. "It's the bullet wound. It hasn't healed yet, obviously."

"Take off your pants," Merle demanded without hesitation, stepping out of the front seat and opening the car's door on Daryl's side.

For a moment it looked like Daryl was going to object. And, to be quite honest, Beth expected him to do so. Following without questioning — or following at all — wasn't Daryl's style. But, surprisingly, he just took off his belt and lowered his pants.

Now, if there weren't so much blood on his leg, if she weren't so tired, if her mind weren't going on overdrive and if Merle didn't look so concerned, maybe Beth would've stopped to notice that Daryl was in his underwear right in front of her. As it was, the only thing she noticed was that his whole leg was a big mess of blood and dirt.

"This cloth needs to come off," Beth said, already moving to take the fabric covering the wound off.

However, Daryl clearly wasn't going to make this easy for her. He just slapped her hand away and moved to do it himself. It didn't bother Beth; she had other matters to attend.

"We need water to clean it. He can't stay with a dirty cut," Beth explained to Merle, even though he was probably thinking the same.

She was proved right when he nodded his head even before she finished speaking.

"I'm..." He struggled to find the appropriated word. "Concerned about leaving you two alone."

"Just fucking go, I won't let her die," Daryl dismissed his concern rapidly.

Beth didn't believe that, not even a little bit. Daryl was more likely to kill her when Merle left than to protect her should the need arise. But she didn't say anything. She deserved whatever happened to her, and she was painfully aware of it.

Merle looked straight at Daryl for a long moment before leaving without another word. Beth had almost forgotten how much they communicated with each other wordlessly.

Daryl immediately pushed his pants up again and proceeded to ignore her as best as he could.

Rationally, Beth knew he was in pain. She knew that he need rest and that she was the last person on earth he wanted to be stuck in a car with. However, none of those things made the silence any easier to bear.

The Dixon's silences were a different kind; she had found out on their first days together. They weren't a pleasant or comfortable kind of silence. No, the brother's always looked ready to snap and run, and their silences reflected that. It was an uncomfortable thing to experience, to say the least.

Regardless, it was better than anything she had lived in the past two weeks, so Beth closed her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn't feeling terrible and exhausted.

Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could pretend that they had never left the cabin and all of this had been a dream.

Foolish little Beth.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Merle was taking so long Beth got out of the car to stretch her legs a little. What if he had run into trouble already? Their record wasn't the best.

"Why the roof?" Beth said, suddenly. "It would've been a lot easier to go out the back door."

The question was driving her crazy; there was no reason for Daryl to have done things the way he did.

"We were going to be on the top floor anyway," He answered, confused. Apparently unfazed by her interruption of his silence. "Why would we go back?"

Going to be? Why would he plan to go to the top floor?

"But why did you go up? That's what I don't understand," Beth said. "You could've grabbed Merle and left."

Realization flashed across Daryl's face.

"You thought I would leave you behind?" He asked, frowning his brow.

"Yes!" She half screamed. "Of course I did. Why wouldn't you? I killed you. I. Killed. You."

Beth was absolutely sure the desperation she felt was showing on her face, there was just no way to hide it. She didn't want to be alone — even the thought of having to survive each day without nobody else was enough to leave her in a state of panic. But she couldn't hold the questions screaming inside her in anymore.

"No, you didn't," He pointed out very calmly. "I'm right here, aren't I?"

"I don't know, are you?" Beth returned the question. "Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I've gone crazy. There's no reason for you to be here, especially being this calm. You should hate me," She stated, before lowering her head and adding. "You should have left me there."

She didn't point out that she was the one that went after them, that she forced her presence on them. If the brothers had a problem with her being there, they would've killed her already. Beth thought they would, actually. Why hadn't they?

"So I should've saved Merle and left you there to die?" Daryl finally sounded angry; Beth noticed a little confused. Maybe it was coming back to him slowly?

"Yes, of course!" She responded, unreasonably. "Merle is hurt because of me. How can you ignore it?" She continued without giving him a chance to answer. "Isn't he your brother? Don't you love him? How could you save the girl responsible for his pain?"

"I didn't say I wasn't angry," Daryl backed padded.

He threw his crossbow across his back and walked forward until they were face to face. They were close, too close.

"Trust me, kid, I'm very fucking mad," He stated, his eyes sparkling with hidden anger.

Everything about Daryl was controlled, even if his words weren't.

"Then do something!" Beth screamed, completely unstable. "Don't just stand there looking so calm and unconcerned. I almost got you killed; I believed I had until today. Merle was tortured every day, Daryl! Do you want to know how I know that? Because I heard him screaming! He fucking screamed. Are you hearing me?"

She needed him to do something, anything. Beth felt so guilty that she could barely breathe and, the worst of all was that she deserved it. She hated herself and needed Daryl to hate her too. He should scream at her, curse her very name, hit her... Anything would be better than this serene acceptance.

"I wasn't there, Beth!" He finally screamed too, snapping like a string that had been pulled too hard. "It took me a week to find you both. A whole damn week! Do you know how long a week feels like when you think a person you love is dead?"

"Yes, I do," She answered, honestly. Obviously, she did. How could she not? Beth accepted that her family was probably dead, or worse. She believed Daryl had been dead.

"When I saw you both alive," He continued, ignoring her answer. "I felt so relieved I could barely think of anything else."

Daryl was showing more emotion than she had ever seen him show before. And, like everything about the brothers, it was intense and powerful.

"I was alive, and so were my brother and you," He added. "At that moment I couldn't have asked for anything else."

"Every bruise you have, every wound... They are all my fault, Daryl," She admitted, looking at her very scraped and bruised hands. "I hate myself for that. But I hate myself even more because I'm terrified that you'll leave and I'll be alone."

Confessing that was leaving her raw in a way that she had never felt before. Jonathan's words, punches, and touches couldn't hope to make her feel this exposed, no matter how much they hurt. This was indefinitely deeper — she was barring her very soul to Daryl.

"I ran after you both like a dog because I couldn't stand letting you go without me, even if I don't deserve it," Beth completed, painfully aware of how much she had humiliated herself. It didn't matter, though. If she had learned something being stuck in that room was that she was willing to give up on any pride she had just to be with them.

"Merle promised to teach you," Daryl explained it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not a single trace of his previous anger to be seen. "You're one of us now, kid, and we take care of our own."

He then messed her hair with the confidence of someone who had done it before many times, with an ease that came with time. Only he hadn't...

Daryl's words and touch felt like a punch to her face, maybe worse. Every emotion she felt in the past two weeks came rushing through her mind and, suddenly, the weight was too great.

Beth started to cry in the same second Daryl stepped forward and hugged her. She began hitting his chest, struggling against his hold very unconvincingly.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go..." She whispered like a mantra. "Please."

Daryl's answer was to hold her tighter until she finally stopped struggling. He held her while she clung to him desperately and never complained.

If Merle took a little too long to come back with the water, then no one noticed. And, if his eyes were also a little swollen, no one mentioned it.

* * *

 **AN2: Daryl being tender and understanding! Enjoy it while it last, that's all I have to say about it.**

 **Please review and let me know what you all thought of the chapter.**


	13. Moving On

**Author's Note: Guys, I know it's been too long since my last update, and I apologize. I don't ever want to abandon this story, as it is my baby and the first story I've ever written.**

 **Please, don't give up on me yet! I'm still here, and I'll keep updating as fast as I can.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own TWD nor anything related to it.**

* * *

Walking wasn't a particularly difficult task. Under normal circumstances, Beth wouldn't have minded the hours they were in the woods. However, she thought tiredly, when you had to walk for miles and miles for days and days, nonstop, it was unbearable. She never complained, though. Beth had learned her lesson, in the worst way possible. Compared to the room she was locked in for the past two weeks, walking in complete silence under the Georgia heat, hungry and tired, seemed like a small blessing.

What worried her was Daryl's wound. The bullet wound was deeper than what she had anticipated, and she had no means to do anything about it. She had sewed it the other night, in the truck, and that was all he let her do. She remembered it perfectly...

 _When Merle came back with the water, Beth quickly did what she had to do. One thing she did know about the brothers was that they didn't like being taken care of, so she only had a small window of time to help Daryl before he became too uncomfortable._

 _The thread was the wrong kind, and the needle was pretty bent, but it was all they had, and it would have to do. So Beth washed Daryl's wound as best as she could and grabbed the bottle of cheap whiskey Merle handed her — not even stopping to question where that had come from._

 _"This is going to hurt," She warned as she was pouring, to distract him._

 _His face had frowned terribly, but other than that he hadn't uttered a single sound of protest. Which kind of freaked Beth out. What kind of life had Daryl lead, for that to feel not worthy of a scream?_

 _She sewed very slowly, but it was unavoidable. She was working under crazy circumstances and her hand was still hurt from before. It was better to do it carefully than to screw Daryl's leg even further._

 _She tried not to stare at his underwear, or any other part of him that wasn't his wound, but it became increasingly difficult as the time passed. So she focused twice as hard and ignored the part of her brain that screamed that this would be the only chance she would ever get to see this much of Daryl._

 _"Did your father teach you how to do this?" Merle asked from behind her, maybe tired of the silence._

 _"Yes and no," She answered, grabbing the shirt they were going to wrap Daryl's leg with. "I watched my father work a lot and, as a naturally curious person, I asked a lot of questions. Eventually, he got tired of my never-ending questions and signed me up for a first-aid summer course, and that was where I learned to do this."_

 _She ripped the shirt and began wrapping the leg in front of her._

 _"You know this is going to scar, right?" She asked Daryl when she finished her job._

 _"Yes," He said to her. "But, what is another scar?"_

And that made her curious about his other scars. Daryl's past was a mystery, and Beth loved mysteries.

Lost in the memory, Beth almost didn't notice they were stopping. Getting ready for the night, she noticed, looking at the fast darkening horizon.

"We need to decide where we are going," Daryl broke the silence, sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk of a big tree. It was interesting for Beth to notice how the brothers always played it safe, sometimes compulsively so. They never moved without a backup plan — even the smallest movements were thought through.

"Yes, the winter is coming, and we need a permanent place to survive it," Merle agreed, moving to light up a fire with an easy that only came with familiarity. "I want something as far away from the major cities as possible."

"Won't that make it more difficult for us to get food?" Beth asked, merely curious. After the last time, she doubted they would vote anything, and she wouldn't dare to intervene with the decision either. If they decided to live in a hole in the ground, that's where she would go, no questions asked.

"It will," Daryl confirmed, skinning the squirrels he had hunted without even looking at it. "We'll need to stock up food, a lot of it. It shouldn't be so difficult, though, with only the three of us. I'm more concerned with finding a defendable place before the snows begin."

"What about something on a mountain?" Merle suggested. "It would be harder for the walkers to go up, with the snow. And arrows are the perfect weapon for hitting people at a distance." He added, looking at Daryl's crossbow.

"It won't be easy to find a house like that around here," Beth stated, helping Daryl put the meat on the fire. "There aren't a lot of mountains that aren't covered in forest."

"You know one, though," Merle pressed.

It wasn't a question.

"I do." She said, opening the map Merle passed to her. "This three." She pointed to three different places. "They all have houses in them."

She desperately wanted to suggest something but didn't dare — it would be safer to see them all anyway.

"Just say it, kid. You look constipated," Merle said, impatiently.

So she gave up. Not interfering wasn't her thing.

"This one," Beth pointed to the mountain that was the furthest away from them. "There's only one house built there, and it's a decent house where an old friend of my father lived. I don't know if he's alive, but it would be an adequate place, I suppose."

She tried to ignore the connection to her father. He was dead or living another life away from her; it wouldn't do for her to keep hanging on to the past. It didn't mean it wasn't painful, though.

"It a little further away then I'm comfortable." Merle expressed, pursuing his lips. "There's a lot of chances for problems on the way."

"Look," Daryl pointed out. "This other one is in the same way, almost. We could head towards there and see how it is. If we don't find trouble, we stay there, if we do, well, is nice to have other options."

And so, just like that, it was decided, they were headed towards the closest mountain first. With nothing else important to say the group ate in silence and got ready to sleep. Beth took the first watch, again, knowing she wouldn't be able to get a good rest regardless of how much she tried. So she chose to let the brothers rest as much as they could, it was the least she could do.

The truth was, nighttime was always the worst part of the day for Beth. It didn't matter how little she slept, even if she only ever got half an hour, the nightmares came swinging. It was somewhat ironic that in a world filled with the undead, Beth bad dreams were always caused by a human. Jonathan was smiling in all of her dreams, mocking her despair with his happiness... and he was alone, always alone. He needn't another person to make Beth cry, and Jonathan had been very aware of that.

He would tell stories to her, although she never asked for them, and they were always about the things his men did to Merle or to Daryl's body. The psychological torture was the worst, in her opinion. At least when he was hitting her there wasn't time to think about all the rest, it was just the pain and the willingness for it to be over...

Beth sat on the forest ground, for the rest of the night, trying to convince herself that Jonathan was dead and she was free.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The next day came faster than Beth would've liked. Even if she didn't exactly sleep; leaned against a tree and gazing at the empty forest, she could almost trick herself into believing the world was a good place.

But, unfortunately, the sun didn't ask for permission to rise and neither did Merle. So Beth got up and began walking again, knowing this was only the beginning.

If they hadn't run out of gas — and, therefore, still had a car — things would be much simpler, but life was never simple or easy in the apocalypse and Beth no longer waited for luck to be on her side. It was a long distance to cross — almost two weeks if they carried on walking at the pace they were and did not run into any trouble whatsoever. Beth knew that if they made it to somewhere safe before the winter, they should count themselves lucky.

She was lucky to be alive; Beth reminded herself, she didn't have the right to complain.

Beth also didn't dare to mention her training to Merle, much less to Daryl. She was painfully aware of how much trouble she caused them; it would be surreal to ask for more help than what they were already giving her. Nevertheless, she made an effort to observe how the brothers behaved in relation to everything, with a dedication she never applied to anything in her life. If Daryl moved, she watched his feet; if Merle chose a path, she tried to see his reasonings; if they killed a walker with a knife or a crossbow, she memorized their movements as best as she could.

Beth was so in sync with the brothers moves that she caught herself, more than once, copying their actions subconsciously. The youngest Greene knew that they both knew what she was doing, and most likely thought she was pathetic. But no one spoke about it, so she continued.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

As the week passed, the trio settled into a routine that worked for all of them. Daryl stopped limping after Beth took out his stitches, Merle's bruises began to fade, and he stopped having so much trouble breathing, and Beth's hand and face didn't hurt so much anymore. No one was perfect, but they somehow managed to make it all work.

They didn't run into any humans, which was great as far as Beth was concerned. In the world they lived, humans meant trouble. But they did see the walkers, plenty of them.

And, more than anything else, she paid attention to the walkers, knowing it could make a difference someday. Beth learned how fast they walked, how far away they could smell blood and how much noise one had to make to call their attention. It wasn't an exact science, but it gave her some comfort to know she understood how they worked.

Beth forced herself to watch all that happened around her, no matter how gruesome it was or how much she wanted to avert her eyes. That was the new world, and the only way to survive in it was to fill her mind with those images to protect herself. She made the decision to be a survivor, so now Beth had to prove she could be one.

* * *

 **AN2: Beth still has a long way to go, but she's learning.**

 **Don't forget to tell me what you all thought of the chapter!**


	14. A House is Not a Home

**Author's Note: Hello again lovely humans, I'm back. Get ready 'cause this ride is about to get a lot more intense than ever before. Beth is starting to welcome some significant changes in her life, and she'll need to put her big girl shoes on. I couldn't be more excited, though.**

 **We just hit 100 followers! This is amazing!**

 **As always, thank you all for the incredible reviews. It honestly pushes me to write more and hopefully better every day.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm a mere player.**

* * *

It was barely a house.

The roof was full of holes and dirty. There was a missing piece of the wall being replaced by a big metal square. In the old world, nobody would want to live in such a place. However, they no longer had the privilege of choice, so that house— if one could call it such — was big possession.

Daryl said he spotted movement from the inside. And so, unless Daryl Dixon was wrong, human beings were living in that dumpster.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered from behind the bush, where she was hiding.

It was stupid to whisper, she knew. There were from a distance where she would have to scream to draw attention, but Beth chose to be extra careful.

"I somehow doubt that there will be something in that place worth taking," Merle pointed out, not impressed.

"Five people are living there, at least," Daryl informed, sizing the house up. "They have to eat and protect themselves."

"Five?" Merle questioned, incredulous. "You've got to be shitting me."

In response, Daryl only shrugged.

"That cannot be healthy," Beth commented, all too aware that they weren't in any position to judge other groups. Especially one with a house. At least they had something to protect them from the elements.

"It's better than what we have," Daryl stated darkly, voicing her own thoughts.

"So, we raid it?" Beth asked, panicking internally at the thought of facing other humans.

Beth hadn't seen another human face since Jonathan, other than the brothers. In fact, if she ever saw one again would be too soon, in her opinion. However, Beth was aware of how unrealistic she was being; sooner or later she would have to face her fears.

"From what I could tell, they never leave the house all at once," Daryl informed, serious as ever. "We'll have no choice but to kill someone."

And yet he spoke with such ease that it made it look like they were about to take a walk in a park, as opposed to killing innocent people.

"Perhaps is better to surprise them at night, while they are sleeping?" Merle suggested, also very casually. "We'd have more people to get rid off, but it would be faster."

"Do you think they take watches?" Daryl asked, analyzing the house critically again.

"We should assume so, just to be safe," Merle said. "Although they don't look like the sharpest tools in the box."

And so, they carried on, seamlessly, forming a plan to attack those people, while Beth watched in silence.

It was a clear night, she noticed. Not the scenery one would picture for a slaughter. However, in the new world every night was a dangerous one, so maybe it wasn't so strange after all. If one closed one's eyes and listened carefully — something Beth avoided at all cost — the noises could be heard. The screams, fading in the distance.

Any minute now Beth would join the brothers for their raid. She would not only face humans and steal their food, but she would also kill them for it. That was not how she envisioned her life.

Nevertheless, Beth was grateful. She had Daryl and Merle, and that was a lot more than what most people got. Sure, they were quiet and rude — sometimes even downright brutal — but they tried with Beth, and she could tell.

Ever since they got together again after him, they were extra careful with her. Beth was fine ignoring what had happened, not allowing herself to cry or get angry, but she couldn't deny that she was physically hurt, and the brothers were tending her wounds in their own way. Even if nobody acknowledged it.

The walked ahead, clearing the path for her; they stopped walking the minute her breathing got labored; they made sure she always had enough water...

It was all very flippantly done. If Beth hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed, but she was so attuned to them that she couldn't help but notice.

They always had an excuse, of course. Dixons don't have feelings; they couldn't. So Beth smartly kept her mouth shut, knowing that her acknowledgment wouldn't be appreciated. Which all came down to that moment, in the calm night, where Beth was readying herself to kill.

She wasn't doing it because of the food or the supplies — although they needed it. Beth was going to do it for them. She was going to be useful, perhaps for the very first time.

Maybe then, someday, the brothers would appreciate her too.

XxXxXXxXXxXxXXxXXxXxX

Beth rested against the door, trying to control her out-of-control breathing. She promised herself there would be no freaking out and Beth intended to keep that promise. Check the room, that was the order. She could do that.

Gathering her courage, Beth held onto her knife strongly and stepped forward, pushing the door open and readying herself for the attack. An attack that never came, though. Bizarrely enough, ignoring the fight happening around her, was a woman screaming and hitting on a small child. A very young girl — she couldn't be older than six. Beth took the scene in; the woman was clearly drunk and out of control, swinging an empty bottle around in her dirty hand, and the terrified child — cowering on the floor.

Rage burned through Beth's insides like never before. She unconsciously stepped closer, making a dull sound against the floor and drawing attention from the despicable woman in the room. Her face twisted into a frown and her hands didn't stop twitching.

"What you want, bitch?" She slurred, struggling with the words.

Beth wanted to answer, but the words couldn't get past her dry throat. The anger was making her impulsive, and it left no time for words.

Beth ran and raised her arms, ready to plunge the knife. But the woman stepped aside, smashing the glass bottle on her ribs, making Beth double in pain. She took the opportunity to kick Beth's calf with surprising strength.

"Fuck off," She cursed angrily.

As Beth tripped, she used the woman's arm to steady herself, causing her to lose balance, fall to the ground, and drag the youngest Greene with her. As they rolled on the ground, the woman grabbed her hair and pulled, hard. Beth yelled, dropping the knife and kicking around. Beth heard a protesting moan and wasted no time. The second her elbow connected with the woman's nose, blood immediately started to pour out. She used that moment of distraction to grab her knife and drive it through the drunk's stomach.

Her responding scream was like music to Beth's ears.

Not willing to give up, the woman tried to reach for Beth's ankles, but she moved out of the way, pulling the knife with her. The next second had Beth jumping down and plunging her dirty knife into her head — right between the eyes.

The woman's eyes widened before her body fell to the ground with a soft thud. Beth got up, cringing at her blood-covered arms, stopping only when a quiet crying sound registered in her mind. She turned to see the child hidden behind a chair, obviously afraid.

"I'm sorry you had to see this. You can come out now," Beth soothed, not moving. "I won't hurt you."

The following silence stretched for a few tense moments before the girl poked her head out, asking softly:

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. You can come out," Beth reassured, her heart aching for the young child.

The next second the girl ran and hugged her legs, her whole body shaking with fear. Beth crunched to check for deep wounds but, the moment she did, the girl jumped into her lap and began to cry, so she hugged her and got up, steadying the child in her uninjured side.

"Shh, you're okay now," Beth tried to calm her. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

That was a promise to herself. Beth would allow no one to hurt that girl.

Suddenly the brothers rushed into the room, weapons drawn. The child in her arms screamed, clutching her side.

"They won't hurt you."

Merle was looking at the child; jaw clenched and clearly angry. It probably wasn't difficult to imagine what had happened in that room. He moved forward, taking her knife out of the woman's skull and cleaning it on his pants before arranging it back on her's.

"We're keeping her," Beth stated, trying to sound as confident as she could.

"Yeah, I figured," He agreed, a strange look crossing his face. "What's your name, kid?"

"I'm..." She hiccupped. "...Luna."

"That's a lovely name," The praise slipped out of Beth's mouth. "I'm Beth, and this is Merle and Daryl."

They both nodded in greetings, synchronized. It was really amusing the awkward way in which they did it, and Beth had to suppress a smile.

"Did you get everyone?" She asked, remembering where they were.

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed, lowering his crossbow. "They made too much noise, though, we need to grab our stuff and leave."

"They have a lot of food in here. Too much, actually." Merle said darkly. "We'll need to prioritize."

"Guns?" Beth tentatively asked, knowing better than to hope for the best but not fully able to contain her expectations.

Even if her aim left much to be desired, it was still better than her fumble with a knife. Besides, Beth liked to put as much distance as possible between her and any person trying to harm her, and the knife made it virtually impossible.

"Sorry, kiddo. No such luck," Merle crushed her hopes a lot more politely than one might have expected, but it was a negative nevertheless.

"Shit," She cursed her bad luck.

"Cursing in front of the kid now, are we?" He asked, enjoying her frustration.

Six months ago she wouldn't have. Scratch that, three months ago she wouldn't have, but now Beth simply shrugged. She was aware that the child in her arms probably heard more curse words in her short life than Beth ever would — despite the brother's terrible influence.

"Let's go," Daryl rushed, already turning around and heading towards the direction the food probably was stored.

Beth gave herself a moment to absorb the scene: The dead body on the floor of the woman she killed; the child in her arms, hiding her head on her neck; the brother's calm demeanor; and her own bloody body.

Life was shaping up to be quite crazy, and Beth didn't completely understand why a foreign excitement rushed through her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms and neck.

* * *

 **AN2: So... Surprise?**


	15. Wake Up, Beth

**Author's Note: Hello darlings, welcome back to the apocalypse world we all know and love. This chapter was tough to write, and I believe it will also be so to read, but I hope you appreciate it regardless. I'm excited for the chapters to come.**

 **Huge thanks to all those who have stuck with me for this long in this fic, writing awesome stuff about it and encouraging me to continue to write.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of The Walking Dead. Not even a single piece of it is mine.**

* * *

As it turns out, the horrible house had a lot more stuff in it than anyone could have ever imagined. Most of it was useless to them, though. There were drugs and cash in abundance, stashed in a cabinet that was way too big to be in that shack. There was also cigarettes and alcohol, which Beth saw Merle grabbing but pretended she didn't. Who was she to say something about it anyway? Instead, she searched for things she needed — like new, warmer clothes.

As she roamed through the stacked boxes on the wall, she tried to pretend the dead bodies surrounding her didn't exist. It wasn't an easy job, by any means, but it was crucial. If Beth were to allow herself even a tiny second to muse about the death they caused she would freak out — no doubts about it — so for the moment it was better to be oblivious.

The first box had nothing exciting, only some dirty blankets and a single sock. The second one, though... Beth gasped softly, not wishing to draw attention but not fully able to control her excitement either. It was filled with necessities Beth forgot she needed, like shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, and the most important one, tampons.

Staying clean with the routine she had was almost impossible. In fact, Beth couldn't remind ever being more disgusting than she was at the time, but the apocalypse wasn't a forgiving time, and she tried to ignore her complaints as much as possible. However, that didn't mean she wasn't craving a bath like crazy or dreading the moment her period would come.

The problem was, Beth no longer had a backpack with her. Actually, she had nothing besides her clothes and knife.

"Do you know where they keep the backpacks?" Beth asked Luna, knowing the girl probably would have no idea but having no other choice.

The girl didn't answer straight away; she just looked at Beth with a vacant stare. When she was about to give up and search for it herself, the girl turned and started to walk towards the dead bodies.

"Wait!" Beth tried to call her back, already getting up and chasing after her.

But she needn't have to worry. Luna stopped at the door leading to the room she had been previously inside, pointing to a dirty backpack not far away from the body of the woman Beth killed. It honestly made her kinda of sick to think that it might have belonged her. Beth had already stolen something far more precious from her than an old, dirty backpack. But Beth forced her feet to carry her forward until she was close enough to reach out and grab it. No sooner had she done it, Beth turned her back and left the room; not wishing to spend another moment in there.

"Look, Merle, I found your soulmate's pack," She joked, looking inside it and taking out the cigars and flasks of booze. "See, there's even an old underwear here." She added, fishing the disgusting item and throwing it in his face carelessly.

However, life was funny sometimes, and to Beth's utter embarrassment, the boxer landed right on Merle's face as he turned to face her. The following silence was cut by Daryl's loud chuckle.

"Did you just throw an old, used underwear on my face, girl?" Merle growled, shoving it out of his face.

Beth should've asked for forgiveness and moved on — it would've been the wise thing to do — but her body betrayed her horribly, and laughter came out of her instead.

It was, perhaps, the first time Beth laughed like that since she had left her house behind with the brothers. She was feeling happy, despite all that was happening around her, which was why she should've known it wouldn't last. No one was allowed to touch happiness in the apocalypse.

XxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxxXx

It all happened too fast. So fast indeed, that Beth never even saw how it all went down. All she knew was that one moment she was putting an old jacket on and the next a scream was reverberating through the room, freezing her insides faster than any cold weather ever could.

If her life were a movie, Beth would have run towards the sound, braving whatever came her way. If instead, she was at least a strong individual with a decent moral, Beth would've turned to face what was happening to see what she could do. But, in real life, Beth froze. Her mind was screaming at her to do something — anything — but her body didn't respond.

Thankfully, Daryl wasn't like her. He moved the moment the noise — if one could even call it that — was heard.

Beth saw it from the corner of her eyes, still unable to turn around.

The sick, dull sound of a knife being pulled from flesh was what finally snapped her out of her trance. She turned her neck and saw Daryl shocked eyes gazing Luna's body; her neck, more specifically.

Merle busted inside the house like a madman, gun in his hand. He stopped when he saw no immediate danger, but widening his eyes when he noticed his brother frozen stance.

"No!" He proclaimed, as though his will would change the past if only it were strong enough.

Beth knew what happened; she wasn't an idiot. The knowledge flooded her like a tsunami, leaving her without breath and ground.

The little body of Luna crashed to the floor, the blood finally pooling in her clothes.

Daryl moved forward at the same time as his brother, both of them kneeling beside Luna and holding her hand as she finally began to cry desperately.

If it weren't so sad, it would have been beautiful. And if Beth wasn't so numb, she might have felt something. But she was, and she didn't.

The brothers were talking, but Beth wasn't listening. She heard nothing, only the sound of her beating heart echoing in her ears. Her eyes, however, were functioning correctly. Beth saw everything, including the gun Merle laid on the ground next to him — which was what finally made her move.

Beth was aware that Merle knew she was taking his gun, but he made no move to stop her.

"Move," She demanded in a flat voice.

"Beth..." Daryl tried to say something, but she could tell he knew not how to do it. It's not like it mattered anyway, Beth didn't care for what he had to say.

"Move," she repeated, in the same alien tone of voice as before.

Before Daryl could protest, Merle put his hand on his brother's shoulder and shook his head.

"Just leave it," He muttered, getting up and looking at her. "We'll be outside, take your time."

Again, if the situation was different, Beth might have appreciated his compassion. But the numbness had taken over her entire body.

Merle's obsidian eyes were so dark Beth could see her own vacant look staring back at her.

"Don't do anything stupid," Daryl said, probably trying to be nice but it only served to annoy Beth lightly. Don't do anything stupid? Luna was already dead, what could she do? The only thing stupid had been Beth's belief that she could do something right; like saving that kid.

 _God, go away_. She thought tiredly, not having the energy to be angry.

Merle seemed to be in a particularly good day because it was almost like he read her thoughts. He ducked Daryl's head lightly and pushed him towards the door.

"Shut up," He scolded, gripping his shirt.

They left, and Beth was alone with the still crying child.

The walker hadn't missed; her neck was destroyed. The disgusting bite took almost all the flesh and the muscle on the left side, leaving all her insides exposed to the world.

Luna sprang forward and hugged Beth so tightly it hurt. Beth didn't move, allowing the girl to dirty and hurt her. It was the least she could do.

The little child cried like there was no tomorrow; which, in her case, it actually didn't. Beth wished she could cry too, but her eyes remained dry as a desert.

"Am I going to die?" The kid in her arms demanded, silently asking Beth to comfort her.

What was the right thing to do in such situations? Was Beth supposed to lie and pretend nothing happened or tell the truth and ruin the girl's final hours?

The word came out of her mouth before she consciously decided.

"Yes," It was barely anything more than a whisper, but it was enough.

Luna went very still in her arms, frozen by the sentence Beth just announced. It made Beth feel like the killer instead of the reporter.

"I don't wanna become that," She told Beth, releasing her and laying on the floor again.

She looked nothing like a child should ever look. It was unnerving the way her face seemed exhausted — as if she had already given up on life altogether.

Something was trying to take over Beth's automatic state — she felt it, deep inside herself — but it was quickly pushed aside by her rational side. Maybe her brain was aware that she couldn't handle any of that at that moment and that the only thing keeping her sane was the lack of feelings inside her. The void was a blessing, leaving Beth blissfully ignorant.

"You won't," She muttered, showing Merle's gun in her hand. "That's why I'm here."

Strangely that seemed to comfort her. Something shone in her eyes, too fast to discern what it was. And that was the last time Beth saw her eyes, 'cause in the next moment, they were closed.

Beth raised her arm and pointed the gun at Luna's head, ignoring the way her hands trembled. She put her finger on the trigger and gathered strength, knowing that was her duty.

Sombrely synchronized, as only dark situations could be, Beth pulled the trigger at the same exact time as the girl whispered the worst thing she could have ever said.

"Thank you."

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 **AN2: I felt somewhat sad at the end of this chapter. I wrote it piece by piece, musing Luna's death repeatedly over and over again. It won't be easy for Beth, but luckily she's not alone**.


	16. Learning To Breathe

**Author's Note:** **To any of you wondering, their relationship is changing already; one only has to look closely to see. But love can't be rushed, especially when we're talking about the Dixon brothers.**

 **I cannot express my appreciation enough to all the amazing people still with me on this crazy ride. Thank you.**

 **[For those of you who were following this story since the beginning, I just want to inform that this is where I had stopped before, so from this chapter on, it's all new content]**

 **Disclaimer: A girl owns nothing.**

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Half an hour, that's how much time she managed to buy Luna. Half an hour.

Surely there was a limit to how much a person can stand, emotionally, before she became numb to the world. If there was one, Beth was approaching it. Fast.

As time passed, she just stood there, gun in hand, watching the lifeless body lying in front of her. The body of the girl she murdered — one way or the other. A young girl, with dreams and aspirations for the future — a future which had been stolen from her so early on.

Did she wish to travel? To attend college? To marry? All dreams Beth had had for herself before.

Perhaps the life of this little girl mattered so much to Beth because it reminded her of a time she felt was now too far away. Luna had been young, scared, incapable and unfortunate. All adjectives that could've very well been used to describe her, just as much as the little girl. In fact, that was how Daryl had described her at a certain point.

Who knew, in some days that could be her, lying dead on a dirty floor. Forgotten.

Footsteps interrupted her dark musings, uncommonly loud for the brothers — which left Beth wondering if they were making noise on purpose to warn her of their presence or if she was just too sensitive to anything at the moment.

Merle extended his hand, without another word — the request was apparent. And Beth didn't hesitate; she practically shoved the gun in his hands — eager to rid the terrible weight of it from her hands.

If he was bothered by the blood staining his gun, Merle never showed. His face remained stoically neutral, a mirror of his brother's look. Both faces carefully controlled, probably afraid of how she would react. After all, they most likely thought that was all she still hadn't pulled — a real panic attack, to attract all walkers within' hearing distance and threaten their lives.

Stupid little Beth.

Perhaps she should be allowed a panic attack. Perhaps she had the right to cry and feel terrible. Perhaps she should allow the tears to fall. It was all just so unfair. How much more should she take in silence? How much more?

Would good news finally come?

"Beth?" Daryl's unexpected voice cut through her thoughts like a knife; His smooth, quiet tone reminding her of where she was.

Beth couldn't allow herself to forget all the good that had already happened in her life. Not too long ago she thought Daryl was dead because of her. But he wasn't; he was alive. He was right there, as was Merle, and they hadn't abandoned her so far — even though it would've been so easy for them to do so.

And, if she had to choose, no matter how selfish that might have been, Beth would pick the brothers over anybody else in that tiny house. They were her only connection to her old life and the only ones who she could count on to keep her alive.

"I wanna bury her," Beth finally answered back, not even pausing to think about it.

The need to give Luna a proper — or as proper as she could — funeral took her by surprise. It wasn't something she could explain, not really; She just needed it.

"I don't think-" Daryl began to say, but was quickly shut down by his brother.

"No, she's right. We shouldn't just leave her here," Merle expressed, surprising both the occupants in the room.

Beth nodded numbly, not really knowing how to proceed with her own wishes. How did one go about burying someone?

Should she go looking for some tool? Should she just crunch on the ground and dig with her bare hands?

Suddenly Merle shoved something into her hands — Beth couldn't be bothered to pay attention to what it was. He told her to dig, so she did. Perhaps he realized she needed to do something; to be on the move. Beth's body was unresponsive to any form of command she wished to give it; it moved, that's all.

She saw the brothers digging as well, in a profound silence. For once, she was glad they were so taciturn — Beth was afraid they'd open their mouths and only Luna's words would come out instead. The silence was better.

She dug. There was only the soft ground beneath her feet and the purpose of making a hole in it. Beth needed to keep digging; she could not stop. She chose to ignore the blood on her hands — it had already dried out between her fingers, warm and disgusting. Beth only gripped the tool harder. She wouldn't let it affect her; she was fine. She was great. Amazing, really.

"...Beth!" Merle grabbed her arms, shaking her ever so slightly.

She jumped into the air, frightened beyond belief by the sudden hold of her.

"Just stop, alright? It's big enough already," He said, taking the shovel — it was an old shovel, she noticed — out of her hands.

"There's no need for you to hurt yourself further."

"What?" She whispered. She wasn't hurt; she didn't understand. Merle looked pointedly at her hands, and Beth realized she was, indeed, hurt. There were blisters on the inside of her hands, some had torn open and were leaking fluid.

"Ah, it's nothing," she said. "This is nothing."

And it was; she wasn't lying. She knew it was supposed to be hurting, but it wasn't.

Nothing hurt. Perhaps because all of her was already hurting.

XxXxXxxxxXxxXxxX

They sat around the fire, neither speaking nor looking at each other. At one point, food was placed in front of Beth, and mechanically she ate it — an instinctual response more than actual hunger. If someone asked what it was, Beth had no way of answering — the action of chewing and swallowing was done by repetition, she flavored nothing.

Her mind was chaos. Killing Jonathan had been about survival. Beth wasn't okay with it, not even close, but she could at least try to pretend it hadn't been murder on her part. Luna, however, was just a child — had been just a kid. Beth could still hear the words ringing in her head.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

 _Thank._

 _You._

Was it not enough that she had been tortured, beaten, humiliated and dragged through psychological hell? Why would the world allow her time to save Luna only to let her die so soon after it?

All of a sudden, Beth heard a choked noise as if someone was struggling to take a breath. She finally raised her eyes to look at the boys, but they were already facing her — mouths shut, eyes squinted. The sound was not coming from either of them. Was there someone coming their way?

"Beth..." Daryl spoke softly as if he was scared of spoking her. "Breathe."

What? Why was he telling her to breathe? Beth was breathing just fine.

The sound of choking became louder, and Beth suddenly felt a sting in her eyes, blurring her vision and spreading a warmth to her face. She raised her hands to her face and immediately felt a wetness there. There were tears running down her face. Rapidly.

"Beth!" Daryl called again, more sharply and commanding. His face was a mixture of concern and discomfort — probably fearing Beth would bring half the walkers of the state towards them.

That's when she realized the sound came from her. The through felt ray and closed, but the pathetic sound kept coming out of her mouth — like a scared deer.

She tried to stop; to contain the ridiculous tears running down her face as well as the ragged breaths, but her lame body didn't respond to any of her efforts.

Her body wouldn't answer her calls, and desperation began to surge inside her at each new failed attempt to calm down. It was all too much. Her mind was playing the scene over and over again, faster the longer it went. Luna laying on the floor, Luna asking if she was going to die, Luna crying, and, finally, the dull sound of the bullet. Air became scarce; the world began to spin. It was all too much. Beth's mind wouldn't shut up.

She reached up and delved her hands into her hair, pulling at the roots, trying to ground herself somehow.

 _Stop it, Beth._

Shit.

She closed her eyes — squeezing them shut in an attempt to ignore the rest of the world.

And suddenly strong arms were wrapped around her, encasing her torso and lifting her off the ground and into somebody's lap. They held her too tightly, preventing her movement with its strength. Beth felt claustrophobic; trapped in a cage. Her body was rebelling. She struggled, trying to breathe and run at the same time.

The just had to get out. Out.

"Kiddo... need to calm down... hurt yourself... common...work with me..." The voice penetrated her mind — a whisper amongst the screams going around in her head.

Beth knew that voice. It was familiar, almost comforting. Who was whispering in her ear?

"Beth, breathe!" The order was clear.

Silence.

Breathe.

Beth ceased her struggle, going limp in Merle's lap. It was suddenly clear that he was the one who held her as tightly as steel. His voice was the whisper, the order.

The air began to flow back into her body, seeping into every corner of her insides.

Slowly Beth surroundings became clear. There was no walker in sight, thankfully. Just the three of them, around the fire. She noticed Daryl looking at her face — his blue eyes sharp and open, a distinct difference from his usual hooded glare at the world. He leaned forward, almost touching Merle's knee. He never did touch any of them, however, in a sharp contrast of Beth, who was currently touching every inch of his older brother.

Her own body conscience came last, as Beth noticed the exact position in which she found herself. She was sitting in Merle's lap, leaning against his strong chest while his arms surrounded her middle, caging her in his grasp. Her hands, she noticed, were gripping his forearms, her nails digging into his flesh strongly enough for tiny streams of blood to flow down.

Beth could feel his steadying heartbeat against her back, his breath hitting the back of her neck.

She wanted to bolt. To jump out of his lap and run into the wild, eager to escape the embarrassment of having a panic attack in front of the brothers. The cool, collected Dixon's brothers.

She tried. Tried to remove her nails from Merle's arms — they had to be hurting him, but her body had yet to respond to her call.

Why must Beth continue to prove herself to be an inept, pathetic kid?

"I...," She tried, not even recognizing the voice coming from her mouth. "I'm sorry... I'm trying to-"

"It's fine," Merle interrupted. "I can barely fell it, anyway. Take your time."

That couldn't be true, Beth knew. She could fell the terseness of the abused muscles...

She was tired, exhausted. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly all the emotions of the day had caught up with her, making her body sag in response. Her eyelids began to drop against her will, and her body moved to lean back against Merle's chest. She knew he was probably about to kick her out of his lap, probably already fed up with her proximity, but she couldn't find the strength to move away. The darkness of sleep enveloped her without warning, taking the decision out of her hands.

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 **AN2: I have to say, I'm so excited for the chapters to come!**


	17. I Hear You Now

**Author's Note: Happy New Year's Eve, guys! I wanted to post this chapter today to thank you all for the support and love throughout this year. I really hope you had an amazing year and that this story had made you laugh at least once through it. I'm so excited for 2018!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything here.**

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It could be her imagination, but Beth had the feeling both the brothers were currently paying a much closer attention to her than normal — perhaps gauging how well she was doing after her meltdown. She wanted to protest — to order them to back down — but Beth was still quite unsure how she was currently feeling. About everything. It was all a big enigma.

Merle was walking right in front of Beth, so close, indeed, that she could touch him if she so wished. For a crazy moment, Beth considered doing so. She wanted to reach out and touch him, just to confirm he was there. Hug him, just to fell his presence and take comfort in the fact that he still hasn't left her sorry ass alone in those woods. But she wouldn't, of course. Not because he was a Dixon and would probably reject any source of physical contact that was not initiated by himself — although she was always hyper-aware of his preferred personal space — but mostly because some bruises could still be seen in his body. The damage marking his body was still there, just as it did hers.

Beth's hands were healed, for the most part. The bruising on the wrists wouldn't fade completely for a while longer, but she could pretend it wasn't there as long as she focused on anything else. Other than that, she only felt some minor discomforts in specific parts of her torso. Beth was lucky. Jonathan had been a son of a bitch, the scum of the earth, but he never hurt her more than she could handle. He did only enough to make her scream, and then he left.

Merle hadn't been so well treated, Beth could tell. His face had some bruises — around the ears and nose —, which looked bad enough. However, she knew he was hiding the rougher wounds under his shirt. Beth could tell by the way he walked, even though he tried his damn hardest to hide it. It was impossible to hide something like that from her — not just 'cause she had heard his screams back in the building, but also 'cause Beth was so in tune with his movements that even the tiniest wince of pain didn't escape her. Beth made sure to pay attention; she wanted — needed — to know. Just as she did with Daryl. Their wounds were her fault, so it was her duty to remain aware of them at all times, to see if there was any way in which she could help 'em — even if they would most likely reject any form of help on her part.

Beth noticed it all. She saw the winces, the stumbles, the almost imperceptible frowns… it all served to confirm Beth's beliefs that the boys felt a whole lot more than what they let show. So, when Daryl shifted his weight around for the third time in a row, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"Merle, can we stop?" She immediately requested, trying to sound more tired than what she felt. "I'm dead on my feet."

Both boys came to halt at the sound of her voice, turning to face her.

"Right now?" Merle asked, sounding surprised by her request. Beth knew why. Since her imprisonment, she stopped voicing her own wishes to them — knowing she had no right anymore — but this wasn't for her. Daryl needed to take the weight off his bad leg, so Beth would do whatever she had to.

"Yeah, I mean, if it's okay with you. I kind of need to sit down a little."

Daryl looked a little contemplative, as though he was trying to analyze her motives. Merle, on the other hand, looked decisively uncomfortable.

"I guess," He shrugged, looking around. "This is not the ideal place to spend the night but it's also not the worst. Let's make camp; we'll continue to walk in the morning."

"Thanks," She murmured, lowering her head, embarrassed to have to portray the weak kid again even if it was to help Daryl.

"I'm gonna go get something for us to eat," Daryl informed, laying his backpack on the floor and grabbing his crossbow. "Keep an eye on my stuff, will you?"

"No problems," Beth answered straight back, without thought, only to lift her head and see him looking at Merle.

Of course.

Beth could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, as she once again lowered her head. How embarrassing. Of course he didn't mean her, how stupid to think otherwise.

Probably choosing to ignore her sudden burst of self-confidence, Daryl left without another word. His steps could barely be heard as he walked away from their spot in the woods.

XxXxxXxXxXxxXxXXX

"How are you, kid?" Merle asked, breaking the silence with his question.

Beth winced, hating how fragile she felt at the innocent prodding. The look on his face was not one of pity, however. He merely looked concerned and, perhaps, somewhat awkwardly. Beth wondered if Merle was unused to caring for someone else or if it was she, specifically, who made him fell out of place.

"I don't know," She responded, choosing to go with the truth. "I also don't know how I'm supposed to feel in this situation, you know? It's all too new and frightening. I lost my family, my boyfriend… they're all dead, I can face that now. I was only kidding myself — trying to pretend nothing bad could ever happen to them just because I loved them."

At her words, he turned to face her.

"We don't know, Beth," He pointed out, rather kindly. "Daryl can be an asshole sometimes, I know, 'cause he learned that from me. He was pissed, but he doesn't know for certain. They might be alive for all we know, but you can't live your whole life based on that hope."

The words were surprisingly thoughtful, and Beth could feel her eyes starting to water in response. He was looking her right in the eyes, too, so he could probably see the effect his kindness had on her. It was slightly humiliating, but also quite nice.

"Thank you," She said, trying to hold back the tears. "Daryl had every right to be an asshole to me, don't worry. And you're right, I can't live hanging on the hopes that they'll pop out of these woods at any time to resume our previous life. The truth is, we can't, even if they do return someday. My dad… he was trying to protect us — and I can understand that — but everything that was happening seemed so different than what it was. When you guys walked into our lives, I was living in a bubble, where nothing would ever hurt me."

The words began to flow out of her mouth in a way that Beth had never felt before. Perhaps it was the emotional overflow she was experiencing, or maybe it was the way in which Merle looked at her — like she wasn't some annoying kid, but rather a person he cared about. Whatever it was, it sure made her want to bear her soul to him.

"Then there was the barn… it was a huge slap in the face. Suddenly the world had become a much darker place, with sinister beings who wanted nothing more than to kill me. Why should I want to live in such a place? I couldn't come up with a single reason to remain breathing. And I know I sound so silly and pathetic to you for that, but that was how I felt. There was no reason to prolong a sad life seeing as I would die anyway in a not far away future."

"So, I tried to kill myself. It was a stupid thing to do, I can see that now," she continued, clutching her shirt with her fingers. "It seems like such a long time ago now. I feel like I have lived a whole other life since then — most of which I could do without, honestly."

Beth gathered her wits, readying herself to do what she had wanted to do for a long time, but could never find the courage.

"I've trying to apologize," Beth said, holding his gaze while trying to convey how much she meant her words. "Since that stupid day… It was my fault, of course. I did everything wrong that day. When Jonathan shot Daryl… my God, Merle, I'm so sorry. I know how much you treasure Daryl, how much you love him. And I know you cannot forgive me, but please know that I'm sorry. I never wanted for him to get hurt because of me."

"Beth," He began, as soon as she took a breath in between sentences.

"No, wait," She interrupted, mentioning for him to wait for a little. She needed to get it all out. "There's more I need to say. I wanted to apologize for Daryl because I know he's more important to you, but I also want to say that I'm so sorry for you, too. Merle, I… I could… Most days I couldn't hear you — which was bad enough — but somedays I could, and it was so much worse. I cannot express how much it pained me to hear you screaming, knowing that it was all my damn fault."

The tears were rolling down her face, even as she spoke. Beth was grateful to have the opportunity to say those words to him, face to face. During the time she was strapped to a chair in the building, sometimes she thought about the words she would say if she ever got the chance to apologize for her actions. This was more than what she could ever have hoped to get.

"I'm so fucking sorry," Beth couldn't stop, the words just kept on coming. "Sorry that you had to stay there, knowing your brother could be dead. Sorry I put you in that position. Sorry they hurt you so fucking much. Sorry I couldn't do more to help. Sorry I ran after you guys even though I knew you wanted nothing else to do with me. Sorry I never said how grateful I was that you saved me from the farm. Sorry I'm still here, weighing you both down. I'm so… sorry."

A hiccup overcame her, forcing her to stop talking. Beth buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the fat tears on her face. The feeling of guilt was taking control of her body, making her feel like she was a worthless piece of shit. Beth wanted nothing more than to run away and never have to face the brothers ever again — how could she stay there when there was so much red on her ledger?

"Kiddo, you've got to breathe," Merle said. "Breathe, Beth."

She raised her head and realized he was crunched in front of her, way closer than she thought he would be. From that position, she could see his eyes perfectly — the dark iris and the flecks of green spread in some places. Unlike Daryl's, Merle's eyes were big and open.

"I am breathing," She whispered. "I'm not having another panic attack, relax. I'm sorry you got worried."

That seemed like the wrong thing to say because his expression got immediately darker.

"Stop saying sorry, kiddo," He said. "This is ridiculous. Yes, you were careless, but none of this is your goddamn fault, alright? Trust me; I know all about being the jackass who puts everyone around him in danger, and that's not what happened. That… that motherfucker who did this to us… to you, he's the one to blame."

He stopped for a second, before carrying on: "I could hear you screaming, too."

"What?" She breathed, shocked.

"I could hear you, girl," He repeated, his face distorted. "I've been hit in my life, kiddo, this ain't my first ride. With guys like that, it's just easier to give 'em what they want, so I'd scream. I got hurt, yes, but I'm not even close to being at my worst. I could hear you, though, and that was the hardest part."

H lowered his eyes, his shoulders sagging as he spoke.

"I promised to teach you to protect yourself," He whispered, rather tiredly. "I said I wouldn't allow you to get hurt. I knew you weren't ready to leave the cabin, but I allowed myself to be swayed. I should've put my damn foot down... If you want someone to blame for this whole mess, then I'm your guy."

Beth couldn't believe he thought he had any blame for anything that had happened to them. Never once had she imagined Merle to be guilty of something, on the contrary, she was the one who placed them all in a horrible situation. He tried his best, Beth knew that.

"No, don't even think... No!" She ordered, trying to digest his words. "This is my fault, no one else's. You did help me, as much as you could and as much as I would let you. You saved my life in all the ways I could ever need, Merle, and I'm so freaking grateful for it. Forgive me if I did not say it sooner."

She raised her hand to his chin, forcing his head up to meet her's. Her eyes locked against his. She needed him to understand how serious she was; how vital that conversation was to her. But his face — his tortured expression — took her breath away. Never had she seen so much emotion stamped on his face before.

"You don't know anything," He said, sounding somewhat angry. "I failed, Beth. Are you stupid? I fucking failed you! I failed Daryl! You thought we were going to leave you behind in that place with that motherfucker... How fucked up is that?"

As he spoke, Merle began to raise his voice to a full-on shout, flailing his arms as he yelled.

"Daryl almost died; you almost died. Do you know what those... those sons of bitches would say to me, Beth? Do you?" He asked, although he never expected a response before he gave the answer. "They said they were eager to touch you. To taste you. God, I can't even... Fuck! Did they fucking touch you?"

Beth felt the familiar fear and disgust she got whenever Jonathan was mentioned around her. His touch was still etched — burned — onto her face.

"No," She answered. "Jo- He wouldn't allow anyone else in the room I was being kept, and he didn't... Not like that."

She remembered her constant fear, though, that any day would be the day he decided to take advantage of her vulnerability to hurt her like that.

"Beth," Merle said, rousing her from the dark thoughts clouding her mind. The use of her name was different, new. Beth wasn't used to hearing it coming from Merle's lips. "I'm sorry. I should be the one apologizing to you, not the other way around. I'm sorry that you had to live this. I never wanted you to see this ugly side of the world."

It was too much; Beth lost it. She began to cry at the same time as she jumped into his arms. wrapping her own arms around his shoulders and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"Please, don't leave me," She begged, desperate to have some — any — reassurance that he wouldn't leave her on her lonesome.

"Dammit, Beth, I won't," He promised, grabbing the back of her legs and positioning her over his lap, straddling him. "I won't."

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 **AN2: So? This chapter was so emotional for me. I can't wait to hear your feedback! xoxo**


	18. Seeking Redemption

**Author's Note: I'm back, guys! With the first chapter of 2018, ain't that just crazy? I feel like the years are going by faster and faster. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter, as it gives a little insight into the thoughts of one Daryl Dixon.**

 **The responses from the last chapter made me sooooo happy! I love hearing from you. Thank you.**

 **Disclaimer: Not really the owner of anything here, just the crazy mind coming up with all sorts of imaginary scenarios. Nice, right? Right? Okay, then. Whatever.**

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 _Daryl's Pov_

Daryl followed the tracks on the floor almost absentmindedly, knowing his own skills enough to be confident in his moves even if his attention wasn't one hundred percent focused on the task at hand. He was still unsure whether he would actually shoot the deer when he reached it. They had fed not long ago and Daryl was strongly against killing when it wasn't necessary. He had used the pretext of hunting to escape her — so he had to take back something — but it needn't be a big animal like that. Perhaps a squirrel or two would do.

Daryl wasn't sure about what bothered him in the first place. Maybe it had been her constant stare, watching his every move — moves that wouldn't normally embarrass him, but under the circumstances made him uncomfortable. Or it could because she was just constantly there. He wasn't used to being watched; he was used to being a shadow — fading into the background, just there.

He constantly felt under her scrutiny, though. Every step he took she was there, focused on his every action. She saw the way he walked and she noticed whenever he missed a step. The possibility that maybe she saw him... it wasn't something Daryl ever had to deal before. People, in general, had no interest in him beyond the help he could provide.

He didn't know how to explain it even to himself, but the whole ordeal just made him feel very aware of her. Daryl couldn't help but notice her as well. Whenever he felt her gaze on his back it became impossible to _not_ be aware of her moves in return. He could hear her steps; he could hear her breathing; he could hear the way she moved her arms constantly — nervously — back and forward.

He noticed much more, though. She never slept, for once. Beth never woke him up to get some sleep and she never woke Merle either; she just remained awake throughout the night.

It was not like he was sleeping all through it anyway; he couldn't even if he wanted to. Daryl woke up sometimes — most times — but she was still there, in the same damn position she had been before. Focused on watching everything around them — although he wasn't really sure what she could see. Daryl still couldn't completely trust her to keep them safe. She wasn't trained or ready for that life, yet — Beth didn't know what to look for in the dark, despite her good intentions.

He knew his brother woke up often, too. Sleeping a full night wasn't their habit, anyway. But they never knew what to say to her — Daryl could see Merle struggling as well — so they choose to let her be. Perhaps they should have said something already, but it wasn't like he knew what he could possibly say without making an idiot out of himself. Her pain wasn't a normal kind pain of pain for a seventeen-year-old girl. Beth was grieving for a girl she did not know; she was suffering from what _they_ had done to her. Daryl never experienced any of those types of pain in his life, and he comprehended how unbearable it was when people diminished your pain by pretending to understand it.

It was all too new, he kept reminding himself. Daryl could still see the bruises; the large bruise marking her face. He didn't know if she could even tell her face was badly bruised — from a hard slap, most likely. It wasn't like they had a mirror available for her to constantly check on herself, either. It was better that way, he believed. No need for her to be reminded that she had physical proof of all that had happened to her; her mind was most likely driving her insane already.

However, they could see it. They could see it every time they looked at her. It was a testament to what they had allowed her to suffer. He knew his brother felt it, too. Merle was quick to shoulder the blame from anything concerning Daryl — he knew that — but maybe he was beginning to include Beth in the small circle of people he felt he needed to protect. This left Daryl feeling still unsure of how to deal with such a change.

When he told her she was one of them, he hadn't been lying. He could see it much better than she could, and it was clear to him that Merle had absolutely no intention of letting her go. It was also true that he had saved the girl. Despite what she seemed to think, he wasn't a monster; he would've never abandoned her to her fate with those sons of bitches.

Of course he was angry. Of course he was frustrated. He wished that he could change what had happened — he would change it all if he could. He wanted nothing more than to erase the past month out of their lives. They should've been heading to the farm; they were supposed to be searching for her family. Even if he hadn't believed it was a possibility for them to ever find any of those people again, that's what he had wanted to do; that's what they should have done.

What happened to them was fucked up. He had almost died; he thought he would die. When he saw the gun aimed at him — when he saw the gun aimed at his head — he thought that that would be it. He was going to die. But he hadn't. He was left there, on the floor, dirty and hurting, wondering what had happened to his brother and Beth for hours and hours, until he had the strength to get up, and crawl, and then to walk.

It hurt, a lot. Daryl knew pain, but nothing had quite prepared him for the crushing pain of having to take a bullet out of his own leg. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he lived through it. He couldn't die; he had a purpose. He had to find his brother and Beth, even if they were dead, even if he was too late. He still had to know.

So Daryl followed their tracks, so damn slow it angered him most of the times. Every minute he wasted on his slow-walk could mean the death of the only person he had left. Merle couldn't die.

It did, however, hurt so much to walk that sometimes he had wanted to give up, to lie down and rest for a whole week, but he couldn't, so he kept on walking until he found them.

He still couldn't quite believe what had happened; he still didn't know how to ask her exactly what had happened. He wanted to know but didn't know how to ask for it. The truth was that he was afraid to hear the answer. His brother had been tortured, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, but that had been it. Daryl knew it must have been tough, but he also knew his brother and he knew how strong he was. He would survive. The time they spent on that building didn't really change anything for him — not really — but it did change for her. She was never supposed to meet... she was never supposed to see that. Beth wasn't supposed to know people could be so evil; that people could be so vicious and corrupt.

Daryl knew men like that his whole life — men who enjoyed other people pain. He saw it on that motherfucker's face when he had been pointing that gun at Daryl's head; he saw it in his eyes that he was enjoying it. Other people pain had been an enjoyable moment for him, so Daryl understood she must have suffered in his hands, much more than they could ever see just by looking at her. A man like that wouldn't have passed on the opportunity to make her suffer.

And the little girl... the little girl she saved. Luna. She should have lived. What happened to her was tragic; she was so young. A wounded girl — Daryl could relate to that. He saw a little bit of himself in that scared little girl. Maybe that's why he still couldn't believe they had been so careless as to not check the bodies. To know that her death had been so easily preventable; to know that they could've saved her... she could be alive.

Luna was just another girl he could have saved but didn't. This situation just reminded him too much of Sophia; just reminded him of how badly he had wanted to save her, but didn't. He failed twice; it was time to face that.

He was tired.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Daryl hadn't meant to eavesdrop, honestly. He figured the two squirrels were more than enough for the time being, so he walked back to their precarious camp, not making any more effort to conceal his steps than he normally would. That was how he moved around, whether he hiding or not. But, the second he heard her voice — speaking candidly for the first time in weeks — he couldn't help himself, he stopped before they could see him and waited to her what she was saying.

He did move close enough to see them, however, positioning his body so that he was partially hidden behind a tree. He didn't need to try very hard to remain unnoticed, both his brother and Beth looked absorbed enough in their talk that it would be quite unlikely they would notice him.

Merle was crunched in front of her, not looking her in the eyes. They were close to each other, very close. Close enough to touch, if they so wished.

"I promised to teach you to protect yourself." Daryl heard his brother say, in a somewhat defeated voice. "I said I wouldn't allow you to get hurt. I knew you weren't ready to leave the cabin, but I allowed myself to be swayed. I should've put my damn foot down... If you want someone to blame for this whole mess, then I'm your guy."

Again, the protectiveness in his voice. Daryl understood how serious his brother was about promises, but with Beth, it was something more. He felt like he failed her, Daryl could tell. Merle wasn't the sort of guy who went out of his way to protect people, so this was all new territory as far as Daryl was aware. And even though Beth was a girl, it shouldn't have mattered to him. Merle was the exact opposite of pussywhipped — if anything he was the one who usually had to push insistent women away.

"No, don't even think... No!" Little Beth said, sounding quite shocked by Merle's words. Daryl did notice, however, that she made no move to put any sort of distance between their bodies before she carried on speaking. "This is my fault, no one else's. You did help me, as much as you could and as much as I would let you. You saved my life in all the ways I could ever need, Merle, and I'm so freaking grateful for it. Forgive me if I did not say it sooner."

Why did that make Daryl feel angry? So what if his brother had saved her from that fucking farm, he was the one who took them both out of that old building. Did he get no credit whatsoever for that?

She raised her hand and touched his chin, moving Merle's head up until she could lock eyes with him. Beth was completely focused on him, touching Merle without the slightest hesitation. Unlike the frightened way in which she spoke to Daryl — as if he was always about to hurt her.

Her touch didn't seem to calm Merle down because his next words were almost spat out in anger.

"You don't know anything," He said, moving his arms around and frowning. "I failed, Beth. Are you stupid? I fucking failed you! I failed Daryl! You thought we were going to leave you behind in that place with that motherfucker... How fucked up is that?"

It was fucked up, Daryl agreed. Even if he did not like her at all — which was not the case, despite what she thought — he wouldn't have left her there to die. She was clueless, but Beth didn't mean harm to anyone.

"Daryl almost died; you almost died. Do you know what those... those sons of bitches would say to me, Beth? Do you?" Merle carried on, voicing the question they both wanted — needed — to know the answer to, but had been far too afraid to actually ask her. "They said they were eager to touch you. To taste you. God, I can't even... Fuck! Did they fucking touch you?"

Daryl held his breath, waiting for the confirmation that he had been too late. That he hadn't been fast enough to prevent her from being raped by that disgusting piece of shit. He didn't want to hear it, but, at the same time, couldn't interrupt.

"No," She answered, swiftly ending his worries. "Jo- He wouldn't allow anyone else in the room I was being kept, and he didn't... Not like that."

The gigantic relief Daryl felt took him by surprise. He hadn't realized how much he was worried about that. The possibility that maybe Beth had been raped by multiple guys during the two weeks she had been away was a guilt that Daryl had been carrying since he found them. To find out that his fears were unfolded, was redemption he hadn't know he needed.

"Beth," Merle called, bringing Daryl back to the reality in front of him and away from his dark thoughts. "I'm sorry. I should be the one apologizing to you, not the other way around. I'm sorry that you had to live this. I never wanted you to see this ugly side of the world."

Daryl wanted to agree with his brother, to say to her that he wanted to apologize, too. But he couldn't.

She began to cry seconds before she jumped into his brother's neck, hiding her face and holding him closer than before. She said something — whispered to him — but it was so softly that Daryl couldn't understand the words. He did hear his brother's response, though, right before he fully sat on the ground and manhandled Beth into his lap.

"Dammit, Beth, I won't," He said, promising something else to her. "I won't."

She continued to cry, holding Merle tightly — as if he would vanish at any second if she didn't prevent it by holding him as strongly as she could. Merle, in return, looked pained at her tears, like he wanted to do something about them but didn't know how. Nevertheless, they both seemed quite comfortable in their position. Beth wanted to be comforted and Merle looked ready to give her whatever she needed.

He should've been happy that Beth was finally speaking. He should've been proud that his brother was comforting her instead of being his usual jerk self. He should've been pleased that they were both getting along and helping each other to heal. So why wasn't he?

* * *

 **AN2: This chapter had me smiling while writing it. Daryl is wound up so tightly that it makes me crack up a smile sometimes, honestly. Boy just needs to relax a little bit. Perhaps Beth could volunteer to help?**


End file.
